Angels and Roses
by Rhythmrains
Summary: AU phic. A retelling, unlike any other...EC fic... Elements from Leroux...complete
1. Chapter 1

**(Angels and Roses)** is my first phantom AU phic, I hope you'll enjoy it.

Almost every chapter in this phic, will be opened with a journal entry piece, in the form of a letter, that Christine had written as a child, when she was around 9,10 years old, in the year 1860, then it jumps to 1867, and she is about 17. However, the story is taking place in the year 1870, as stated in the story, ten years later, so Christine is now twenty years old. Erik is 31 years old.

* * *

**Chapter One: (The Convent)**

_July 10, 1860_

_Dear Angel of Music,_

_Where are you? I've been praying and praying that you'd come. Why aren't you coming? I hope that you're not angry with me. _

_Just yesterday Sister Luisa baked a whole tray of chocolate chip cookies. She told me to eat just one but knowing how much I love chocolate chip cookies, I ate the whole tray! I was sent to bed without supper because I had been a bad girl. _

_I also didn't mean to set the library aflame. I just tripped while entering the library. I was holding the candle in my hand and the books caught fire. Sister Martha was hysterical because she thought that I had been caught in the fire. Later on, she just hugged me and cried. Sister Luisa says it's because I'm really clumsy. Mother Superior said that it wasn't my fault, but I can't help feeling guilty. _

_I also almost drowned in the lake too, when I went with Sister Renata, berry picking outside the convent walls. She told me to stay away from the slippery edge of the lake but I didn't listen to her. I was too curious and I slipped. But she saved me. I later heard Sister Renata saying to Mother Superior that I had turned her hair grey. I don't know what that means, since she still has brown hair. I guess that she was worried for me. I told them that I was sorry for all the naughty things that I had done. _

_Angel, please tell papa and mama that I miss them a lot, and that I love them. And please, please, come soon! I'm waiting for you. Papa said that you would come and I know that you will. _

_I forgot to mention that I'm taking care of the roses in the garden. It's my job now, to water them everyday. They're my roses and I've even named them. Would you like to know their names? _

_I must go to bed, now. Goodnight, Angel._

_Lovingly, _

_Christine Daee _

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The Year 1870

Christine walked solemnly to Mother Superior's office. Sister Mary Catharine, Christine's closest friend, was walking with her. They were both of the same age.

"Don't worry, Christine. I'm sure it's nothing," Mary Catharine said calmly.

"How can you say that? Mother Superior must have found out that I was the one who broke those plates yesterday," Christine said guiltily, all the while looking down at the floor.

Mary Catharine stopped and turned to Christine. Clutching her hand in her own, she said reassuringly, "Oh, Christine, you saw a mouse. That's horrible and you were terrified. That's why you threw the plates away from you and ran out of the kitchen. Mother Superior will understand."

Christine bit her lips, looking remorseful.

"But I was supposed to be cleaning the dishes, Mary, not breaking them," she sighed.

Mary Catharine couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped her lips. Christine frowned.

"It's not funny!"

"You have to admit that it is a bit funny," Catharine replied, her voice filled with laughter.

Christine shook her head in exasperation before a small smile graced her lips in return. Both women resumed walking down the corridor in silence until they reached the door to Mother Superior's office.

"Good luck," Mary Catharine said sympathetically.

"Thanks," Christine whispered back.

Taking a deep breath, preparing herself for the lecture she was about to hear, Christine opened the door and timidly peeked inside.

"Come in, my child," Mother Superior's voice was calm but firm.

Christine slowly walked in and closed the door behind her. She stood still, her hands clutched before her, her head bent down as if she were praying. Mother Superior sighed dramatically before ordering her to come closer and take a seat. Christine obeyed without saying a word. She sat down, all the while looking at her hands folded in her lap.

"Christine, we must talk."

Before Mother Superior even had time to finish her statement, Christine looked up, her big blue eyes locking to Mother Superior's green ones, and she started.

"I'm really sorry about the dishes… I really didn't mean to…it was the mouse…oh, it looked so horrible…I panicked…dropped the dishes…I know I'm a coward…I shouldn't have done it…I'm really sorry" Seeing the exasperated look on Mother Superior's face, Christine bit her lip and stopped rambling.

"Christine, I have a much more important issue to discuss with you."

Mother Superior stopped, rose from her chair and walked to the window. She looked out for a while, admiring God's creation. As she spoke again, her voice was compassionate.

"Christine, there is something very important that I must tell you. Before your father died, he wanted me to give you something."

Christine's heart missed a beat at the mention of her father. Christine still silently mourned her parents' loss. Just talking about her father or mother was really hard for her. Her hands, in her lap, twisted the linen of her simple, unadorned – and suitable for a convent-bred young lady - pink dress, as she forced herself to remain composed.

Mother Superior turned around to face Christine and saw the tears shimmering in her eyes. She sighed.

"I know it's hard for you to talk about your parents."

Christine shook her head, brushing one stray blond curl away from her face and tucking it behind her ear. Trying to appear serene and calm, she looked back at Mother Superior.

"What did my father want me to have?" she asked.

Mother Superior walked back to her desk and sat down. She removed a chain from around her neck that held a small key. She bent down to open one of the locked drawers of her desk and carefully removed a box. It looked like the kind of box that jewelry would be kept in, a plain black square box, and yet it seemed very elegant. Mother Superior placed the box gently on the desk before her. Christine couldn't stop staring at it.

"Your father told me that when you were old enough, you were to have this box. And I believe that the time has come."

Christine's gaze moved from the box to Mother Superior, a mixture of curiosity and grief clouding her expression.

"What's in it?" she asked quietly, her voice trembling slightly.

"I don't know, child. The box can't be opened." With that statement, Mother Superior carefully turned the box so that its front faced Christine.

There was a tiny keyhole at the front. Christine carefully brought her hand to the box and touched its smooth surface. She gently lifted it and brought it closer to her, silently observing its features before placing it back on the desk a few moment's later.

"Where is the key?" she asked curiously.

"I don't know," Mother Superior replied honestly. "But your father told me to tell you this - that the key is in your heart."

Christine frowned. Since when had her father started talking in riddles?

"But I don't understand. He left me here and he said that he would come back. But he never came back. And now I find out that he left this for me with you? Does that mean that he knew he was going to die? Is that why he left me here?" Christine's eyes were glowing with anger and grief and her voice had become louder with the intensity of her emotions.

Christine felt enraged with her father. No matter how illogical that feeling was, she couldn't help it. How dare he leave her like that? She wanted him with her. He was her family.

Mother Superior sighed before taking a deep breath and speaking as compassionately as possible. "Christine, child, I think that it is time you knew the truth. Your father's death was not an accident."

Christine's gaze shifted from angry and grieved to shocked within moments. She didn't say a word. She just silently waited in dread as Mother Superior spoke again.

"At first, we were told it was an accident and that's what we told you. But later on, I learned the truth but kept it to myself to shield you from further grief. The reason your father brought you here was because he wanted you safe and protected. He left you with us and told me to take care of you. He knew that he was going to die. He was murdered not long after he left you with us," Mother Superior stated.

Christine froze, her blood turned to ice. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Her eyes were so fogged up with tears, she could barely see in front of her. Her heart seemed to have stopped beating and she had turned as white as a sheet.

"Wh - what do you mean, murdered? My father was just a violinist. Why would anyone want to kill h - him? No…no…I - it doesn't make any sense," Christine's trembling voice was barely above a whisper.

"I don't know, child. But HE knew. Your father knew that his days were numbered. So he left you with us to keep you safe and sound," Mother Superior answered calmly.

Tears started pouring down Christine's cheeks. She frantically wiped them away with her hands. She averted her gaze from Mother Superior, feeling ashamed of her weakness. Mother Superior sighed as she handed Christine a napkin, so she could dry her eyes.

"I didn't mean to cause you more pain, child. But you deserve to know the truth."

Christine had managed to stop the tears from falling and had regained some of her self- composure.

"May I be excused?" she said quietly.

"Not yet, child, there is one more thing I need to tell you."

With fear and trepidation in her heart, Christine braced herself. What more could there be?

Mother Superior continued, "Your guardian is coming to pick you up tomorrow."

"Guardian?" Christine asked in shock. "What guardian?"

"Her name is Madame Valerius. Your father did not want you to spend all your life in this convent."

"But I don't want to leave. I don't know who this woman is. I've never even heard her name before." Christine rose from her chair and rushed over to where Mother Superior was sitting. She knelt down before her, clasping her hands together, her eyes pleading as she begged, "Oh, please, don't make me leave. I love it here. And who's going to take care of my roses? I can't leave my roses!"

Mother Superior rolled her eyes heavenward before looking back at Christine.

"Get up, child. Go back to your seat," she ordered and Christine obeyed.

"Now," Mother Superior continued. "Your father did not want you to stay here all your life. He wanted you to settle down, marry, have children, to see the world outside these convent walls. Stop being so afraid. But remember you will never be alone. You will always have us, if you ever need anything. And I'm sure that Madame Valerius will be an excellent guardian."

"But - " Seeing the look on Mother Superior's face, Christine decided not to argue anymore.

"May I be excused now?" she asked again.

"You may be excused."

Christine rose from the chair, hugging her box to her heart. When she was almost at the door, Mother Superior's voice rang out.

"And remember, child, have faith. God is always with us," she said wisely.

Christine nodded before turning to the door again and leaving. She ran down the hall, all the way to her room. She slammed the door behind her, collapsing on her bed, as bitter tears poured down her cheeks like waterfalls. She cried herself to sleep with the box still hugged tightly to her heart.

A knock resounded on Christine's bedroom door a few hours later. Christine awoke with a start.

"Who is it?" she called out as she propped herself up on her elbows to a semi-sitting position on the bed.

"It's me, Mary Catherine. It's dinnertime. Don't you want to eat?"

"I'm not hungry. You go ahead. Join the others. Tell them that I'm not feeling very well." With that, Christine laid her head back on the pillows.

"Are you ill?" Mary Catharine asked worriedly.

"No, I just have a little headache, that's all." Christine winced at the lie she had just told and silently prayed for forgiveness. She didn't want to discuss what she had discovered about her father's death with anyone. She also didn't have the strength to talk about having to leave yet. She just needed to be alone.

"All right, then," Mary Catharine said hesitantly from behind the closed door before she left.

Christine closed her eyes again. Exhaustion took over and she was lost in a dreamless sleep. She didn't know exactly when it happened, only that it was sometime late at night, when an ear-piercing scream jolted her awake. Christine almost fell off her small bed. Her heart was thundering in her chest. She was terrified as she heard more sounds… more screams. She rushed to the door and opened it a little, peeking outside to see what was happening.

To her shock, the convent had been invaded and the nuns were scattering everywhere.

They ran frightened to the nearest exist as men chased them, yelling obscenities and laughing evilly. Then she noticed that they were drenching the walls of the convent with gasoline. Finally, the horror of it all dawned upon her. These monsters were going to burn the place down!

Christine ran back to her bed and grabbed the box that she had been given from her father. Gathering all her courage, she emerged from her room and ran down the hallway in the other direction. She tried to find the nearest exist, away from those monsters.

"Sister Mary Catharine!" Christine called out as she tried to make her way through the chaos. Frantically, she was trying to find all the others.

"Christine!" Mary Catharine called out to her from the other side of the hall.

As Mary Catharine tried to make her way to Christine, she was suddenly grabbed around the waist from behind by one of those disgusting men. Mary Catharine screamed and fought. Christine screamed too, yelling at the man to let go of her friend, trying to get to Mary.

As she frantically tried to find her way through the chaos, she bumped into one of those horrible men. Christine gasped in shock and took a few steps backward.

The man grinned down at her fiendishly.

"Aren't you the smart one, thinking you could get away?" With that he grabbed her by the arms. She cried out in fear and pain, the box falling from her hands to the ground.

Just as suddenly as he had grabbed her, he let go of her, his eyes widening as if he were in extreme pain before falling face first to the ground. Christine abruptly moved out of his way. A scream gathered in her throat when she saw the knife sticking out of his back. Her hands flew to her heart. She took a few more steps backward, until her back hit the cold wall. She was trembling so badly, she felt her knees buckle beneath her. All the horrific sounds of anguished pleas and screams, all the terrible sights of smoke and fire, as the flames began devouring the convent, started to fade before her eyes. She fell into the arms of the beckoning darkness.

The last thing she saw was a vision of an avenging angel, emerging from the smoke and flames. A masked face, with two blazing golden eyes, looked down at her expressionlessly, catching her in his arms before she hit the floor. He lifted her up to him, effortlessly. And for a moment, she relished his warmth.

"Who are you?" she whispered frailly, her eyes glazed over with fear.

He did not reply but kept his gaze straight ahead. As she helplessly drifted into complete darkness, she wondered if she were in the arms of an angel or a demon… for no mortal could move the way he did… and the flames around them were no match for the fire in his eyes…


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: (The Cottage)**

_July 18, 1860_

_Dear Angel of Music,_

_Where are you? I know that you are very busy, but please come. I'm still waiting for you._

_Today, I gave Sister Martha a hard time during our Latin lesson. I hate Latin. It seems hopeless. I will never learn how to speak or write that language. But Sister Martha insists that if I were to pay just a little more attention, I would do well. It bores me out of my mind, though. But what can I do? Papa said that he wanted me to be an educated lady. I guess I never realized that being educated would require learning Latin. It really is annoying. _

_I do love to read. We had so many books in the library, before I burned it down, that is. Now there are so few books left. I feel awful. Oh, Angel, how I wish you were here! You could tell me stories about heaven! _

_I also love my music lessons. I have learned all the sacred arias. Sister Monica says that when I'm older, she will try to get me a professional tutor. She said she sees great potential in my voice. _

_I bet that the music you make in heaven is far, far more beautiful. How I wish I could hear you sing, just once. _

_I wanted to tell you the names of my roses. But it's getting really late and if Mother Superior finds me still awake, she will be angry. Please kiss Papa and Mama good night for me._

_Goodnight, Angel. Sweet dreams._

_Lovingly,_

_Christine Daee_

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The year 1870:

Christine opened her eyes. Her lids felt heavy and she felt drained out. Looking around, she found herself in unfamiliar surroundings. She was in a tiny, rustic cottage, a small fire burning in the hearth to keep the room warm. She was in a small but comfortable bed and someone had placed a quilt over her, too.

Christine quickly threw back the quilt and jumped from the bed, as the memories of before drifted back to her mind. She remembered the fire in the convent, the nuns, and she remembered her savior, or was he just a figment of her imagination? Christine couldn't seem to make up her mind.

A shiver ran up her spine when she realized that her strange savior must have been real. How else could she explain waking up in this cottage. Christine slowly walked around, exploring her new surroundings. The cottage was made up of three rooms, a small kitchen, a rest room, and the living room, which seemed to be a bedroom at the same time, since there was nothing in it, but the small bed that Christine had been on, to the side of the room, and a table that could seat six people in the middle.

Tormenting thoughts crushed her being, but Christine refused to give in the urge to just collapse and cry.

Instead, she entered the restroom, which was also a washroom, filled a basin of water, and washed her face and neck, to freshen up a little. When she had finished, she used the hem of her dress of dry up, since there was nothing else to use. She emerged then, determined back to the main room, her sight was set on the door. She wanted to leave this strange cottage, and try to find her way back to the convent, to see what had happened to the others.

But before she had even taken one step towards the door, it swung open, and a gust of wind swept through. And there, right before her eyes, stood an apparition, her strange savior. Christine froze in her spot, unable to move. Her heart seemed to have stopped beating and her breathing came to a halt for a few moments. She was trembling so badly, she thought she would faint again.

It was only after she had been lifted into the arms of that strange apparition that she realized she was being carried back to bed. She gasped as she looked up at his face. He terrified her. He was clad in black, even the mask he was wearing was black - a mask that covered all his face except his mouth and jaw, just as she remembered. His eyes were still the same two blazing pits of purest gold.

He gently placed her on the bed.

As soon as he let go of her, she scooted away from him, her back hitting the wall, her hands twisting the sheets of the bed in nervousness. He didn't say a word but turned away from her and walked to the table. He removed his cloak, throwing it on top of the chair. Then he placed something on the table before walking away. Christine gasped when the table came back into view - her box was there!

Christine's gaze moved from the box to the man standing at the far side of the room leaning against the wall, his arms folded across his chest. He appeared bored.

After a few moments of silent contemplation, she slowly made her way to the edge of the bed, put her feet down onto the floor, stood up and hesitantly walked toward the table, her gaze locked on her box. She touched its smooth surface almost disbelievingly. He had saved it from the fire! She looked up at him to find that he was watching her now.

"Thank you." she whispered.

She hid her nervousness behind the serene expression she wore on her face, as she continued, her voice wavering a little "It's the only thing left to me from my Papa, along with this crucifix I wear."

Her other hand clutched the small crucifix hanging on its golden chain around her neck. He nodded in acknowledgement.

Taking a deep breath, she said in a stronger voice, "My name is Christine Daee."

He gave her another small nod. Why didn't he say anything? Why didn't he respond? Christine thought. She started to panic again. What if he is one of those horrible men who had burned down the convent…but no, or else why did he save her?… What about the nuns, Mary Catharine?...Christine was trembling again. His sigh, however, jolted her out of her thoughts and panic. Finally, he spoke.

"Stop that," he ordered.

Christine was shocked at the sound of his voice, for never in all her days had she heard such a beautiful voice. She looked up at him. He was looking directly at her now. He must be her Angel, Christine concluded, for no mortal could have such an exquisite voice. After a few moments, she was able to ask in an almost whisper, "St - stop what?"

She was terrified and excited at the same time.

"Stop trembling," he replied.

"I can't stay here, Monsieur," she said urgently, and with determination. "I need to find Mary Catharine and the others."

"You're not going anywhere," he said with a finality that shook her.

"Wh - what does that mean?" Christine asked, stuttering again.

She hated herself for not being able to control her fear.

The door to the cottage swung open again and two men entered this time. They were chatting and had bags of food with them. Christine's stomach rumbled with hunger. She was, however, still frightened. Who were these people?

Her savior straightened his stance and walked over to the two men.

"We got the food," the man with the blond hair and blue eyes announced.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, would you look at her. She's terrified!" the man with the jade eyes and the dark brown hair said in exasperation as he looked over to where Christine was standing.

He placed the bag on the table and said, in an attempt to help her relax, "I'm Ned Sinclair, and you are?"

He extended his hand. Christine hesitated for a moment before she softly replied, "I'm Christine, Christine Daee."

He shook her hand and smiled down at her. She visibly relaxed.

The blond man with the blue eyes cut through the introduction to introduce himself, and said with a smile, "And I'm Phillipe, Phillipe De Chagny."

"Nice to meet you, Phillipe," Christine replied with a small smile, while shaking his hand as well.

"Enough," her Angel's voice rang out loud and clear. "There's no time for this idle chatter."

He approached now, turning to Ned and Phillipe, and ordered, "We have to get moving. Put the food on the table as I'm sure that Mademoiselle Daee is hungry."

Ned and Phillipe obliged. They removed various articles of food from the bags and spread them out on the table.

Christine stood there, observing. She concluded that her savior must be their leader. He pulled a chair out for her. She looked up into his blazing eyes for a moment before sitting down. He sat by her side. Ned and Phillipe took their seats as well.

Christine bent her head and clasped her hands together. Erik was observing her. Both Phillipe and Ned, who had begun to chew their food, watched her. All were curious as to what she was doing.

Then she softly said, "Shall we say grace, gentlemen?"

Both Phillipe and Ned looked at each other and then at Erik. Phillipe swallowed the mouthful of beans he had just stuffed into his mouth. Her savior sighed. Christine looked back up at them expectantly. Erik was drumming his fingers on the table in obvious irritation.

Seeing her Angel's reaction, Christine's expression visibly fell. He was taken aback by the sadness he saw in her eyes. Why in the world would she care about his irritation?

"You're not an Angel, are you?" she whispered brokenly.

Her savior looked at her as if she were out of her mind. Ned and Phillipe didn't even blink as they silently watched this little drama.

"And does that upset you?" Erik asked calmly.

She looked down at her trembling hands, unable to look into his eyes anymore. Her reply was barely audible but Erik still heard her.

"No," she whispered. She wouldn't look at him though.

Erik placed his hand underneath her chin and gently raised her face so that her eyes were locked to his again. She looked very upset, as if she were about to burst into tears any moment now.

Phillipe whispered, "Perhaps you should tell her that you ARE her Angel, just to calm her down."

Erik ignored Phillipe's remark.

"So, you value this Angel very much?" Erik asked quizzically.

Her eyes brightened as she replied, "Oh, yes, I do. Papa said that he would send him for me. He said my Angel would look out for me and that he would have the most wondrous voice, just like your voice." She was blushing now and her cheeks felt as if they were burning.

Erik looked emotionlessly into her bright, hopeful, beautiful blue eyes.

"Christine," he said calmly, thinking about how to put the truth delicately for her.

She seemed to melt at the sound of his voice. Her name was like a beautiful melody on his lips.

He caressed her cheek, her skin like silk beneath his touch. He continued, "I will look out for you. I would never let any harm come to you. But I am not an angel."

Christine looked flustered now.

"Wh - what's your name?" she asked

"You can call me Erik."

He moved his hand away from her cheek, turning his attention to the clock on the wall. Then he looked back at her.

"Go ahead and say grace," he prodded her.

Christine looked up at him for a moment, her big blue eyes locked to his golden ones again. Both Ned and Phillipe bowed their heads. Christine did the same then. She closed her eyes, and clasped her hands together and said grace.

When she finished and looked up, she noticed a shadow of a smile playing on Erik's lips.

"Eat," Erik said impatiently.

Christine blushed fiercely. Had she just been gawking at him? Oh, God, Christine thought. She would die of embarrassment. She moved her gaze directly away from his and to her plate.

She played with her food a little before saying, "Angels can be human, too. Do you know that? Mother Superior said that many times God sends a person to help us out in our time of need and that person is an angel, too!"

Her voice was filled with innocence and hope.

"Well, I'm not an angel," Erik snapped.

Christine bit her lower lip, silently berating herself for saying anything at all.

She began to think about how naïve she was. She had just told a man she barely knew that she thought he was her Angel. Christine attributed the fact of her poor judgment to all the fear and confusion she was feeling. And why did he wear a mask? Surely it must be to hide his face because he didn't want anyone to recognize him. Yes, Christine thought, he probably was one of those dangerous criminals who did not want to be identified. And that's why his stance and his eyes emitted danger. Wasn't she their captive after all? What else could she call this situation she was stuck in? Christine shuddered at the thought. Her stomach was in knots now and she barely ate anything.

How could her life have been turned so upside down with the blink of an eye? She didn't understand anything anymore.

"Are you all right, Mademoiselle?" Ned asked. "You've barely touched your food."

"I'm fine. I'm just not that hungry," she lied.

Erik stood. Christine noticed that he was the only one who hadn't eaten anything at all.

"Very well. Let's get moving," he stated, putting his hand out to her.

"Now?' she exclaimed. "But it's too dark outside. Shouldn't we spend the night here and then set out tomorrow morning?"

Christine was desperately trying to buy herself some time in order to escape. Perhaps if they all slept, she could sneak out and run away.

"Now!" Erik said firmly, grabbing her hand and pulling her up from the chair.

Christine quickly turned to grab her box, only to find that Erik had it with him. He draped his cloak on her shoulders to keep her warm from the chill outside. She had to run to keep up with his pace, since he was very tall.

Outside the cottage, Christine gasped. They were in the middle of nowhere. Even if she had tried to escape, she probably would have never found her way out of the forest that seemed to surround them from all sides.

There were three horses in front of the cottage. Ned rode a rangy brown gelding and Phillipe a rather large white mare. Erik let go of Christine's hand and left her side, walking toward his formidable black stallion. Erik placed the box in the satchel tied to the side of the saddle. He then swung up onto the stallion's back. He stretched his hand out for her. Christine looked up at his eyes, then back at his outstretched hand. She shook her head and slowly started to back away from him. She was terrified of the horse and the fact that he expected her to ride upon it with him!

She started to turn around in her fear, so as to run away, but Erik was faster, he bent down sideways and grabbed her by the arm, quickly hauling her up on the horse, seating her in front of him. Christine cried out in alarm. Erik felt her trembling in his arms. He gently held her, bringing her closer to him.

"Will you please tell me what's going on? Where are we going? Who are you?" Christine asked frantically.

"Just sit quietly and rest," he replied, gently placing her head on his shoulder.

She tried to move away, flabbergasted by the inappropriate position she found herself in. She was sitting in his lap, pressed against his thighs and chest. His arm was placed around her waist protectively and she found herself relishing his warmth. Without even realizing what she was doing, she placed her arms around his waist, holding on tight.

"This is so inappropriate," she whispered into the crook of his neck.

Erik smiled but she didn't see him. She let out a little sigh of resignation, and relaxed completely against him.

And they sped into the night.

Although Christine told herself not to fall asleep, exhaustion won out and she dozed off in his arms. She didn't know how long she slept, only that when she awoke, the first rays of light were beginning to show in the night sky.

"Oh, my," Christine exclaimed groggily, when she remembered she was sleeping in Erik's arms and how inappropriate it was.

She tried to push herself away but he gently shoved her right back to his chest, pressed her against him and she realized he was warmth against the chill of the morning. Even so, she tried to protest but he placed his hand on her mouth so that she wouldn't make a sound.

Christine was shocked. She tried to push his hand away but to no avail. She finally gave up. She looked up into his masked face but he wasn't paying her any attention. His sight was set to a spot right ahead. Erik stopped his stallion and motioned for his two companions with his other hand to ride ahead. They nodded in acknowledgement and moved on. Erik watched them leave.

Christine was shivering again. She knew something was not right, but she couldn't imagine what. She couldn't ask because Erik, her strange companion, had his hand placed over her mouth.

Something seemed to catch his attention, and he suddenly swung down from his stallion and then helped her down.

"What's going on?" she almost shouted.

He placed his hand over her mouth again, brought his masked face close to hers and whispered, "If you want to stay alive, don't make a sound."

Christine thought she would pass out. Was he threatening her? Or was he protecting her? She didn't know and by now, she was too confused to even try to figure it out. He wrapped his other hand around her waist, and walked, dragging her with him. He hid her behind the trunk of a tree, which was also surrounded by tall bushes. He let go of her then.

"I'll be right back. Don't make a sound," he ordered in a whisper. She nodded.

As she watched him leave, she noticed that he walked silently and quickly like a predator.

Christine leaned against the trunk of the tree, trying to catch her breath, trying to sort out all this insanity. It was useless to try though, because the more she thought about all that had happened, the more confused and lost she became and the more frightened she felt.

Christine heard a howl of pain, accompanied by a snapping sound. She didn't know what to do anymore. She folded her hands together urgently, closed her eyes and began to pray vehemently, begging God to give her courage.

She was so absorbed in her prayers when the most beautiful, angelic voice seemed to speak to her, giving her the answer.

"It will be all right now," he said.

"Angel!" Christine exclaimed, opening her eyes wide and turning around, thinking she would see a heavenly creature with two white wings. Instead she saw Erik, her strange savior, her strange Angel, standing over her and watching her.

She noticed that he had what seemed like a rope clutched in one of his hands. Her eyes widened, and she took a step back. He wondered what had frightened her now. As he followed her gaze, he looked down at his hand and realized with irritation that he had forgotten to put his punjab lasso, back in its place, in the satchel, tied to the side of his horse, before coming to get her.

"A - are you going to tie me up?" she asked, her voice shrill. The tears were finally streaming down her cheeks. She couldn't hold them back anymore.

Erik looked heavenward, then back at her. He was relieved because she didn't know what the Punjab lasso was, she had assumed it was just a rope in his hand. At the same time, he was annoyed because she still thought he wanted to hurt her. He went over his actions toward her in his mind, and by God, he couldn't figure out what he had done to make her think that he would harm her. Then he realized she must be afraid of him, because he wore a mask. He did, after all, have that effect on people, let alone a sheltered girl who had grown up in a convent, not knowing a thing about the horrors that exist in the world.

He decided to clarify this issue once and for all. Erik let go of his Punjab lasso, letting it fall on the ground among the bushes, he would pick it up as soon as he had calmed Christine down.

"Christine," he said as soothingly as possible, "I will not harm you. I am here to protect you."

He removed a handkerchief from his pocket and walked toward her. He was relieved that she didn't take a step back. She just looked at him. He brought the handkerchief up to her face, and gently wiped away her tears. He was frowning now, but his expression remained hidden, by the mask.

"Stop crying," he ordered.

She took the napkin from him and wiped away the remainder of her tears.

"Thank you," she said calmly.

He held out his hand for her and she timidly took it. Erik picked up his Punjab lasso from the ground, with his free hand. They walked back to the horses. Ned and Phillipe were back. They were still on their horses. There were some red stains on their clothes. Christine frowned up at them but didn't ask about it although she was curious.

Erik hid his Punjab lasso, in its satchel, and then swung up onto the back of his stallion and gave her his hand. She took it and he lifted her back up onto his lap. Christine sighed, a small smile graced her rosy lips, as she softly stated: "I think you are my angel, after all"

Erik didn't say anything in reply.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: (The Lake) Part One**

_July 21, 1860_

_Dear Angel of Music,_

_Today is my birthday. I have just turned nine years old. Sister Luisa baked a small cake in celebration. They all sang Happy Birthday to me and then I blew out the candles. Do you want to know what I wished for? I wished for you to come._

_I also met a new girl who has arrived at the convent. Her name is Mary Catharine. And do you know what? She is my age! Now, I have a friend! She's an orphan too. Her mama and papa are in heaven, as well._

_Today, I also took my first swimming lesson. Sister Reneta volunteered to teach me so if I slip again into the lake, I wouldn't drown._

_Oh, Angel, I also planted a new rose today so its birthday would be on the same date as my birthday! Now I just have to water it and wait until it grows. All my other roses have blossomed._

_I never told you this before but the life of a rose is very short. But even though my roses die for a while through the winter, they always live again in the spring._

_There is Hope, Mercy, Peace, Love, Kindness, Clarity, Symphony, Melody, Prayer, Faith, Joy, Sky, Wonder, Beauty, Silence, Aria, Heart, Soul, Diamond, Jewel, Tears, Mystery, Sadness, Lonely, Longing, and Memory. _

_I must go now. I'm still waiting for you._

_Lovingly,_

_Christine Daee  
_  
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Christine felt miserable - she needed a bath, she needed rest, her stomach was rumbling with hunger, they had been going at a neck breaking pace for hours and still there was nothing but forest around them. It was now noon and Christine just wanted to get down from the horse and walk a little to move the blood in her legs, which felt limp.

The only good thing about all this was the feel of Erik's arms and chest as he continued to hold her. She blushed for just thinking how pleasant it was to be held in his arms, to feel his warmth, to place her head on his chest.

Then she started to get angry. Couldn't he see how exhausted she was? He was supposed to feel miserable as well, riding all this time non-stop. And the horse should obviously be worn out too, Christine thought indignantly. Yet when she looked up at his masked face, Erik looked relaxed.

She didn't know why but she was furious now. Perhaps it was due to her exhausted state, perhaps it was because he still hadn't explained anything to her, perhaps it was due to the fact that if she asked him to stop, she would seem weak, perhaps it was because he was supposed to notice her discomfort and stop without her having to ask him to, perhaps it was because of everything that had happened, perhaps… all she knew was that she was getting riled up and she couldn't seem to stop herself.

Looking up at Erik again, Christine demanded with a strong voice, though slightly wavering, "We must stop now. I really need to rest. I need to walk. I can't feel my legs anymore." She told herself to stop then but she couldn't seem to quite stop talking, as she went on rambling miserably, "I also need a bath and I'm hungry and you still haven't told me where we're going or what's going on, which are two questions that I believe I have every right to know the answer to." She stopped to take a deep breath and frowned up at him.

Erik looked down at her big, blue eyes, noticing the anger in them, laced with a hint of fear. He smiled inwardly - the girl has spirit.

"I know that you are exhausted. We will stop in a short while, but not now," he replied casually.

She averted her eyes from his and bit her lips so hard she could feel the metallic taste of blood on them. Her anger seemed to vanish, only to be replaced with the childish urge to just scream and cry at the cruelty of everything that had happened to her in the past twenty-four hours. But she didn't do either. Instead she swallowed her anger, to keep her dignity intact. She would bear a little while longer.

One hour later, when Christine didn't think she could take anymore, they came to a halt. Erik swung down from his stallion and helped her down, keeping his arms around her waist as her feet touched the ground. As they stood there looking at each other, she noticed that he still held her.

Two pink spots appeared on Christine's pale cheeks before she said shyly, "You can let go of me now."

Erik sighed and eased his arms from around her. As soon as his grip loosened, she felt her legs give way beneath her and instantly grabbed his arms to steady herself. Flushed and embarrassed, Christine looked back up into his eyes and could see the amusement in them. Now she understood why he hadn't let go of her after helping her dismount; he knew that her legs would be too weak to carry her yet, after the long ride.

He didn't comment; he just held her again. Christine softly shook her legs to get the blood flowing in them again.

"I - thank you for stopping." Her face was but mere inches away from his.

Erik didn't say anything. He held his breath at the sight of her - her long beautiful blond curls falling richly down to her waist, her big blue eyes, her full rosy lips, the soft blush on her cheeks, the honesty and innocence of her reactions… how easily he could read her, like an open book… She took his breath away.

She is the angel, Erik thought.

He had to mentally shake himself, for even allowing his thoughts to take that route. He couldn't afford to feel; emotions were a weakness. Although he found himself attracted to her, it was nothing. She was, after all, a very beautiful woman and any man with eyes would feel attracted to her. It meant nothing, he told himself. Not to mention all the other facts that ridiculed his thoughts, reminding him of the impossibility of anything ever happening between him and her.

Erik let go of her, his eyes taking on a hard look. Christine was still staring at him. Her legs were strong enough to carry her now.

"The lake is over there," Erik said calmly, gracefully pointing toward the side.

Christine could hear the sound of the lapping waters of the lake. She turned and looked in the direction that Erik was pointing, and knew that just behind the bushes and trees a small distance away was the lake.

Just the idea of clean cool water, and a good long bath caused an involuntary sigh to escape her lips.

Christine blushed when she realized she didn't have any soap or any clean clothes. How in the world was she going to bathe?

Ned and Phillipe caught up with them and approached still riding their horses, coming to a halt a few feet away from Erik.

"We need food." Erik stated, as he looked up at his two companions. "Mademoiselle Daee is hungry and I suppose you two are as well."

"We'll go hunting. We'll be back in an hour's time," Ned stated, directly understanding Erik's unspoken order.

Erik nodded in approval. Both Erik and Christine watched as the two men left.

Christine suddenly felt uneasy to be left alone with her strange savior, this apparition who seemed more ghost than human.

Erik turned back to look at her.

He noticed her discomfort and hesitation. She hadn't moved toward the lake either.

"Is something wrong?" he asked curtly.

"I – well," Christine whispered, glancing down at the ground before looking back up at his blazing eyes, "I don't have soap or clean clothing in order to bathe."

She looked flustered. Erik suddenly found himself suppressing a chuckle. He looked at her, his gaze gentle.

"Just remove all your clothing and take a swim in the lake. When you're done, you can wear my cloak. Wash your dress and when it's dry you can wear it again," Erik replied coolly as if he were explaining to a little child how to brush her teeth. "I apologize for the inconvenience but that's all we can offer you for now," he added with a hint of amusement.

Was he mocking her?

Christine's cheeks had turned a deep shade of crimson. She thought she would die of embarrassment. Not only had she made a complete fool of herself but the whole conversation was so inappropriate, Christine flushed even more.

There was a certain unreadable glint in Erik's eyes and Christine instantly averted her gaze from his.

"I will go now," she stated and hurried away with what little dignity she had left.

Erik watched the sway of her hips as she half walked, half ran toward the lake. Christine Daee did amuse him, Erik thought dismissively, before turning around, to tend to his stallion.

Christine could breathe easily again when she found herself a good distance away from him. Her heart began to calm down and her embarrassment started to cool off.

The sight of the lake before her made her smile. The water looked so appealing, so inviting, so relaxing, a peaceful sigh escaped her lips.

She discarded Erik's cloak from her shoulders and quickly undid the laces of her dress. She couldn't wait to get into the water. Looking around to make sure that no one was there, Christine then removed her chemise and pantalets and hurriedly stepped into the lake.

Once her naked body was immersed in the refreshing though cold waters of the lake that covered her up to her shoulders, Christine didn't feel so exposed anymore.

She took her own sweet time. She ducked her head under the water for a few moments, then reemerged to the surface. She swam for almost half an hour, relishing every moment.

When she had finished, she got out of the lake. The cool breeze caressed her naked body like a lover and Christine shivered from the cold. She draped Erik's cloak over her shoulders, covering her body with it and sat down by the edge of the lake to wash her dress and undergarments; it also gave time for her hair to dry a little.

Christine sat down washing her undergarments and when she was done, she started washing her dress. In the beautiful stillness, memories filled her mind, memories of a warm home with a father and a mother. She remembered how beautifully her mother sang and how wonderfully her father played the violin.

And while she clearly remembered her father, his violin, his voice, his face, his laugh, she wasn't able to remember her mother with such clarity, because she had died when Christine was barely four years old. But though Christine couldn't remember her mother's face, she remembered her essence, her scent, and her voice so very clearly.

She hadn't realized that she had been rubbing her dress raw with her hands all the while.

"You can stop now, unless you want the fabric of your dress to shrivel completely. You've already damaged it."

Christine jumped up, her dress falling from her hands to the ground, and swirled around with a startled gasp only to be faced with her strange angel, Erik. She didn't realize that with that swift motion, the cloak had opened, revealing her breasts, waist, thighs, and legs. She was standing completely naked before him.

Christine was horrified, her eyes wide with mortification, and her cheeks on fire. She quickly and clumsily closed the cloak around her body, covering herself up.

Erik couldn't help but think how beautiful she was, how lovely she looked.

"Lunch is ready," he stated.

"Have I been here that long?" she asked softly, not looking at his eyes but at the ground.

Christine thought that she must have been sitting by the lake for more than an hour, for Ned and Phillipe to have come back from hunting. Erik didn't say anything in reply.

"I'll be there in just a minute," Christine added shrilly, her embarrassment still evident in her stance and gaze.

"Very well," Erik replied.

Being left alone again, Christine collapsed to the ground, the hem of the cloak spreading all around her. She buried her face in her hands, and wanted to hide from Erik's eyes forever.

A few minutes passed in utter silence, as Christine fought to get over her mortification to the fact that Erik, had just seen her completely naked. It was then that she heard a low, soft moan. She strained her ears to listen more carefully. There it was again. Christine's heart started thundering in her chest, as she slowly rose from the ground, holding the cloak around her body firmly.

She cautiously walked toward the direction of the sound. As Christine approached the source, the moaning, aching voice got clearer and clearer.

She crossed just behind some tall shrubbery, and there before her lay a woman. Her right eye was swollen; her face was a mixture of purple, red, and blue. There was big cut on her lower lip; her long, black hair had smudges of blood on it and her dress was disheveled, bloody and torn. Her arms and all the visible parts of her body were filled with bruises, and her neck had an ugly dark scar on it.

Christine wanted to scream but her voice wouldn't come out. This poor woman lying before her, hidden behind the shrubbery, out in the middle of nowhere, seemed to be in so much pain, and unconscious.

Without giving it another thought, Christine turned around and started running toward the clearing, where she knew Erik and the others were. She had to get help instantly.

As she approached the clearing, she could hear their hushed voices; they were talking very quietly. Her curiosity got the better of her and she stood for a moment to listen to what they were saying. Erik, she noticed, seemed to be angry.

Erik was looking directly at Ned, his eyes blazing fiercely. "I told you to cut his ring finger off, so we could send it to the bastard, a message he would not misinterpret," Erik seethed. "You deliberately disobeyed me."

"Erik, I couldn't. Isn't it enough that I killed him. Why must I do the gory work?"

"Because I had to be watching the Daee woman," Erik replied harshly. "If not, I would have done it myself." After a moment of tense silence, Erik added menacingly: "The next time I give an order you had better carry it out, is that understood?"

Ned nodded before looking away at the ground.

Noticing Erik's enraged glare, Phillipe stated, in defense of Ned, "It isn't such a big loss. We can send that bastard another message in due time. We also need to think about Mademoiselle Daee. We must be careful, the last thing we need is a frightened, hysterical woman on our hands."

"We'll be out of France in a few days," Erik replied calculatedly, his anger deflated a little. "She'll be safe then. Once she's out of harm's way, we'll be able to act freely."

"Yes," Ned said thoughtfully.

Christine leaned against the tree trunk, supporting herself. It seemed as if the world had just collapsed around her. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't think, she couldn't move. She had turned as white as a sheet. What she felt was beyond horror.

What kind of being would speak so easily about cutting a man's finger off and about killing? Christine shuddered uncontrollably. For a moment, she was dazed by the utter monstrosity of it all. Who were these people? They were taking her with them out of France! And for some odd reason they were concerned for her safety. Christine almost laughed at the bitter irony of it.

She wanted to turn around and run as far away as possible from them, but then she remembered the battered woman she had found, and remembered the reason she had hurried back to them, for help. She forced herself to remain in control of her raging nerves and emotions. She had to be strong; a poor woman's life depended on it.

Taking a deep breath, and with a strength she didn't know she possessed, Christine steadied herself and walked toward them, holding Erik's cloak firmly around her, her knuckles turning white.

As she approached, their conversation came to an abrupt halt. Erik's blazing eyes met her gaze, and she suddenly felt safe, even though she was afraid.

And it was in that moment that she knew, somehow he was her salvation, and somehow he would be her destruction as well.


	4. Chapter 4

Just a little note from me: In every chapter, another piece of the truth will be revealed. And as the story progresses, you guys will see how everything links together, and the whole truth will become clear.

Long Live Phantom!

* * *

**Chapter Four: (The Lake) **_**Part Two**_

_July 24, 1860_

_Dear Angel of Music,_

_I'm still waiting for you. Oh, Angel, I did something very terrible today._

_I was supposed to wipe the floors alongside Mary Catherine but I accidentally put too much soap in the water. Sister Monica came to see how we were doing and if we were wiping the floor properly. _

_Because of the soap, the floor was very slippery and she slipped. She just fell, hitting the bucket of soapy water with her legs. She slid on the floor and the bucket flew and hit Sister Margarita squarely in the face, drenching her! Sister Monica twisted her ankle because of the fall and Sister Margarita's forehead is swollen. _

_Oh, Angel, it's all my fault. _

_Sister Luisa said that ever since I came to the convent they haven't known a day of peace. I have been very naughty. I was sent to my room for the remainder of the day, along with Mary Catherine. I tried to tell them that it wasn't her fault, but…_

_I miss you, Angel, and I feel very lonely sometimes. Please come to me. Please._

_Lovingly,_

_Christine Daee_

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"There's a girl over there," Christine said as she slightly turned, pointing in the direction of the lake with one hand, while holding the cloak steadfastly in place with her other. "She's hurt and I - I don't know what to do," Christine continued frantically. Without realizing it, she took Erik's hand and started tugging on it urgently, looking at him, Ned, Phillipe, then back to Erik.

"Please, she needs help. You must help her!" she pleaded.

Ned and Phillipe looked suspiciously in the direction that Christine had pointed, waiting for Erik's decision, while Erik's gaze remained glued to hers. He could feel her small hand trembling slightly as it tugged on his, and he could see the fear and hesitation in her eyes.

"Very well. Let's go see what we can do," he replied against his better judgment, knowing full well that even if they could do something to help the woman that Christine claimed to have found, they wouldn't have enough time nor could they afford to be hindered by taking a wounded person with them.

But for some reason, at the moment, all Erik found himself caring about was soothing Christine.

She led them toward the lake, then toward the tall bushes on the far side, all the time holding Erik's hand tightly.

Standing before the tall bushes, Christine took a deep breath as she looked up at Erik's calm gaze and whispered, "Here, behind these bushes."

She leaned forward to part the bushes and walk through but Erik gently tugged on her hand, pulling her back to him.

At that moment, Christine realized with a new surge of mortification that she had been clutching Erik's hand all the way. She suddenly tried to pull away as if she had just discovered that she was touching fire, but Erik's grip tightened on her hand. When Christine dared to look into his eyes again, she couldn't look away.

They were standing so close, their bodies almost touching; Christine's breath caught in her chest.

For a few moments, they just stood there, their gazes locked to each other. Christine's eyes were wide, filled with a mixture of emotions while Erik's eyes remained calm.

"Phillipe, Ned, do have a look at the woman and tell me how hurt she is," Erik ordered, all the while his gaze never leaving Christine's, who stood breathlessly close.

Ned and Phillipe proceeded.

"Christine," Erik then said calmly, "I suggest you get dressed while we see what we can do."

Christine blushed fiercely. Erik had easily known what cards to play, to get her away from the scene without any argument. She nodded hastily as Erik's grip on her hand lessened.

Without waiting for him to free her hand completely, she quickly pulled it away from his and turned around, almost running toward where she had left her clothes.

Erik watched her until she disappeared on the other side, before turning to where Ned and Phillipe had gone. He walked through the bushes and stopped at the sight of the battered woman.

"What have we got here?" Erik asked, more to himself than anyone else as he looked down keenly at the wounded woman.

"She's almost dead," Phillipe replied.

He was standing opposite Erik, while Ned was crouched beside her, his fingers pressed to her neck to see if there was any pulse.

Ned continued clinically, "Her pulse is very weak. It's a miracle that she's survived this long."

And after a moment, Ned went on, with disgust in his voice at the people who had done this to this woman, "Someone definitely had intended to leave her here for dead."

"Someone tried to strangle her," Erik hissed as soon as his gaze fell on her neck.

Both Ned and Phillipe looked at Erik as Erik knelt down on one leg and pointed toward the black marks along her neck.

A minute of intense silence passed by, a silence disturbed only by the whispering wind, and the rattling of the leaves.

"We have to help her," Ned stated, at last.

Phillipe slowly nodded in agreement.

"We have to kill her," Erik replied chillingly, causing both Phillipe and Ned to gape openly at him.

"No," Ned answered firmly.

Erik sighed. His eyes blazing and his patience wearing thin.

He looked at Ned and replied in a clipped voice, "You know, Ned, I am getting tired of your damnable conscience. Look at her. She is as good as dead. We don't have the necessary means to help her. We can't do anything. If we move her, we will only prolong her suffering. Nor can we afford to take her with us. She will only slow us down. There is no other way."

Erik's voice took on a harder edge as he continued warningly, "And this is the last time I explain myself to you, Ned."

"There always is a way," Ned replied stubbornly.

Phillipe crossed his arms across his chest. He was the only one who had remained standing. He looked at Ned.

"As much as I hate to admit it, Erik is right. Just look at her. She's almost dead now. Her wounds are fatal and God only knows what wounds are hidden beneath her clothing. We can't do anything to help her," Phillipe said in a resigned tone.

"If you don't help her, I will not cooperate with you any more," came a firm voice from behind Erik. Both Ned and Phillipe looked with bewilderment at Christine.

Erik gracefully rose up, and turned to look upon Christine, fully dressed, her eyes filled with fury and fear, as she continued bravely, "If you leave her here, I will stay with her."

"Do not make threats you can not carry out," Erik replied with deadly calm, his gaze hard on hers, causing her to shrink back as a chill crept up her spine.

"You are not my angel," Christine suddenly blurted out before she could stop herself. Her lower lip began to tremble and Erik could see the tears shimmering in her eyes. She was wringing her hands, as she continued accusingly, the hurt and anger evident in her voice, "You are a horrible, cruel man. Why did you save me from the fire if you were only going to torment me more? I have had the worst twenty-four hours of my life. You leave me in the dark, you don't tell me anything and all I can do is worry. I know that Mary Catherine and the others are dead. And I know that I am as good as dead as well. So let's get it over with and end this facade here and now." She took a deep breath, and went on strongly: "If you're going to kill an innocent woman, why not kill two?"

Christine was trembling visibly now. She had just defied him. She could hardly believe it. That notion itself brought such confidence and strength to her otherwise completely shattered being. She knew, she had to concentrate on her anger, not her fear.

Erik was observing her keenly. He usually did not explain himself to anyone. He knew that if they were to take the wounded woman with them, she would only hinder them, causing them to waste precious time with enemies on their heels. His primary concern was Christine's safety, and he couldn't afford to risk that for the sake of an already barely alive woman. Not to mention that he highly doubted the woman would survive till they had reached an inn.

Erik thought with his mind; he was a practical man. Emotions did not have a place in his heart but Christine seemed to be ruled by them.

"You are right, Mademoiselle Daee. I am a horrible and cruel man," Erik replied coolly, causing her to be further infuriated, afraid, and flabbergasted.

He turned his chilling gaze from hers to Phillipe's, as he continued dismissively, "Phillipe, do escort Mademoiselle Daee back to the clearing."

Phillipe started towards her, before Christine cried out.

"No!" she almost screamed, and Phillipe halted in place.

Her chest was heaving, and her hands had turned to fists at her sides, in an attempt to calm her raging emotions.

She looked down at her feet for a moment, then glanced back up at Erik, her posture strong and determined, although her eyes were swimming with tears.

"Please. Please help her. I couldn't help Mary Catherine… but I can help… we can help this woman… please." Christine said pleadingly, her shaking voice, and flowing tears, betraying her strong, brave front. Her hands were clasped together, as if she were praying…begging…

Erik's breath caught in his chest. Looking at her tearstained cheeks and her pleading eyes, Erik cursed inwardly. He was getting soft, too soft.

After a few moments of complete silence, he snapped, disgusted with himself, "Ned, you wanted to save her, you will carry her on your gelding. She will remain with you."

Ned nodded.

"Thank you!" Christine replied wholeheartedly, as a smile shone through her tears.

Without thinking, she flew into his arms, throwing her arms around his waist and burying her face in his chest.

Erik's entire body went rigid. For a few moments he couldn't even breathe. No one had ever willingly shown him any affection and here she was, this innocent, clinging to him so trustingly.

After a few moments, Erik gently pried her arms from around his waist, pulling her away from him, and holding her at arm's length. He cleared his throat before he spoke.

"Let's move," Erik ordered, successfully managing to keep his expression indifferent and cold, as he motioned for Christine to walk toward the clearing, where the horses, and lunch awaited. She turned around and started walking by her side, silently berating herself for her rash actions. She should have never thrown herself into his arms like that, Christine thought with embarrassment and apprehension.

Ned gently lifted the battered woman in his arms, cradling her head on his chest. As he stood, Phillipe frowned. His eyes had spied something inscribed on her arm. Someone had carved the letters 'LC' into her arm.

Phillipe was a man rarely caught off guard. He always knew what he expected and he always planned ahead, but now he found himself reeling as the realization struck him full force. Ned continued to walk seemingly oblivious to Phillipe's discovery.

"Erik!" Phillipe called out. "You had better come and see this!"

Ned stopped dead in his tracks as he tilted his head to the side to look at Phillipe curiously. Both Christine and Erik stopped walking and turned around. With two paces, Erik was looking in the direction Phillipe was pointing at, to the girl in Ned's arms. Christine followed Erik and was by his side in a moment.

Ned was looking down at the battered woman as well.

"I don't see anything specific," Ned replied with exasperation, throwing Phillipe an annoyed look.

"Here," Erik replied, holding out the girl's arm.

"LC," Ned read without any realization, before it him with full force as well. "What the hell!" he spat.

Christine flinched at the curse. Her stomach was in knots. What did "LC" mean and why were they all suddenly enraged?

"Wh - what does it mean?" Christine asked breathlessly.

"It means, 'Living Corpse'," Erik replied offhandedly, his gaze fixed on the battered woman, studying her for any other signs for a few moments.

Christine shuddered visibly. This was a nightmare, she thought, a very awful nightmare and she just wanted to wake up. Erik's firm grip on her hand, jerked her out of her thoughts, as he took hold of her hand and dragged her behind him, his pace fast.

Christine's mind was reeling with all the possible explanations.

Throwing a swift glance behind his shoulder, Erik ordered angrily, "We have to get out of here at once. They know."

Ned walked as fast as he could toward the horses as did Phillipe.

By the time they reached the clearing, Christine was out of breath. Erik quickly put the lunch food that Christine was supposed to have eaten in a sack and in the satchel on the side of Cesar's saddle.

Ned transferred the battered woman to Phillipe's arms so he could mount his horse. Once mounted, he leaned to the side, and gently gathered her again into his arms, placing her in his lap. One arm held her tight to him around her waist, the other hand held the reins.

Erik swung up onto his horse, and lifted Christine up into his lap as well. Phillipe mounted his horse as well.

"Please tell me what's going on? Who did this to that poor woman? And why were those letters inscribed into her arm?" Christine asked and yet somehow she didn't know if she wanted to hear the answer.

"It was a message to me," Erik spat menacingly.

Christine shivered; she had never seen such a deadly look in his eyes before.

She closed her eyes as the horses started into a full gallop across the endless forest, and the wind began to whip through her damp hair.

After a few moments, when she had gathered her wits again, she opened her eyes and looked up into Erik's expressionless, deadly eyes - those eyes.

"And how do I fit into all this?" she softly asked, her voice barely audible as if she were dreading the answer.

Erik's eyes met hers for a moment, before he brought them up to look at the road ahead. He didn't reply but Christine persisted.

"I heard you talking and I know that you're leaving France and you want to take me with you," her voice slightly wavered at that notion before she continued, "Could you at least tell me where we are?"

"The lake you bathed in is Lake Rhone. We are in the Alps. In a few days we should be in Italy," Erik replied patiently.

"Now stop talking. Sit quietly and don't make a sound," he ordered, after a few moments.

Christine bit her lower lip, trying not to cry all over again.

On his horse, Ned felt a slight movement and glanced down at the woman who was being cradled in his arms. She had opened her eyes and was looking at him. She was dazed and disoriented, and her gaze was unfocused; her eyes were the most beautiful violet he had ever seen. They were so dark that they seemed almost black.

"Wh - who?" she was barely able to ask.

Her lips were chapped and colorless, and her face was so pale. Ned spoke softly.

"I'm Ned Sinclair. You're safe now, miss - " Ned fell silent, waiting for her to answer his hanging question concerning her name.

"Meg…Marguerite Giry," she rasped breathlessly, trying to say something more but couldn't. The effort was too much for her and she fell asleep again in his arms. Ned watched her sleeping form in his arms, for a moment, before looking back, on ahead.

Soon they would reach the inn. Erik knew that it was only a few more hours. He glanced down at Christine for a moment. Her eyes were closed but he knew that she wasn't asleep.

Christine was quietly trying to relax and calm down.

For a few moments, Erik couldn't help but think about the irony of fate. Here he was, holding Christine Daee in his arms, so protectively… here she trusted him with her life. And in his thoughts he wondered, would she have still called him 'angel'…would she have still smiled so innocently and trustingly at him…would she still have flown into his arms, to hold him in a heartfelt embrace, had she known that eleven years ago, he had been the one sent to kill her father, Gustav Daee… He already knew the answer…


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five: (The Inn) Part One**

_July 25, 1860_

_Dear Angel of Music,_

_I really do miss you. You might wonder how I can miss you if I don't know you yet but you see, I do know you - I know you in my heart. _

_Today I showed Mary Catherine my roses. She loved them! I think that I will allow her to help me with watering them and perhaps even with planting some more. _

_The roses are very beautiful, Angel. Do you love roses too? I bet that up there in heaven, you have some magnificent roses that are so beautiful. I couldn't even begin to imagine._

_Mary Catherine and I also went to visit Sister Monica. Her ankle is bandaged but she can't walk yet. I made her a special bouquet from my roses and Mary Catherine drew her a special picture of a guardian angel. Oh, Angel, you should see how well Mary Catherine can draw! I only wish I could draw like her. _

_Sister Monica loved the gifts! And when we apologized again to her, she said that it wasn't our fault. We also gave Sister Margarita, who still has a swollen forehead, similar gifts as well. She wasn't angry with us either._

_Oh, Angel, I miss you so much. Please come to me, when you can._

_Lovingly,_

_Christine Daee_

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Phillipe and Ned remained a short distance behind Erik and Christine. Ned had to slow down the pace of his horse because of the injured woman with him and Phillipe slowed his pace as well, at Erik's order, to keep Ned company in case any thing should happen.

'Dans La Nuit' - that was the first thing Christine noticed about the rather elegant inn they had reached - it's name.

"What is this place?" she asked curiously as Erik helped her down from the horse.

"We'll be staying here for a short while."

Before Christine even had a chance to ask more questions, she felt herself being lifted in his arms instead of being placed on the ground. She gasped in surprise and shock. Erik, knowing that Christine would be too weak to walk on her own since they had ridden for several hours, didn't have the patience to wait for her legs to regain their strength, so he just lifted her in his arms and was preparing to carry her into the inn.

"Put me down!" Christine ordered, mortified.

Her beautiful azure eyes became larger and glowed with embarrassment and fury. Erik ignored her sputtered order, trying hard to suppress a smile. She really did amuse him, he thought to himself.

She tried to fight, wriggling furiously in his arms, her hands trying to push against his strong chest, in a futile attempt to get down.

"Put me down!" she ordered again - indignantly, exasperated and getting more and more embarrassed with every passing moment.

He was ascending the steps now that led to the entrance of the inn.

To his infinite amusement, Erik noticed that she had turned several shades of pink He hadn't known that there could be so many shades to a blush but Christine was living proof of that fact. He also couldn't help but notice how beautiful she looked all flustered and angry as she continued to wriggle in his arms.

"Stop that," he said gently but firmly and his blazing eyes locked to her azure ones. He continued in a bemused yet threatening tone, "Or I will throw you over my shoulder like a sack of grain to carry you into the inn - the choice is entirely yours."

His eyes glowed with victory as her futile fighting stopped, her jaw dropped and she stared back at him, flabbergasted and speechless. Erik had entered the inn now. At the sight of the masked man with the woman in his arms, the few people that were in the lobby stopped to stare.

"Do close your mouth, dear. People will think you daft," he said coolly.

Christine wanted to throttle him.

At the same time, her heart was thundering in her chest at how close they were to each other.

With a sigh of resignation, she knew it would be worse if she caused a scene. She just buried her face in the crook of his neck and wrapped her arms around his neck. But her speechlessness did not last long before she whispered in outrage, "You are the crudest, most…most…"

"I know," he whispered back sensually.

Christine's breath caught in her chest. God, his voice was amazing. Did he even know it? she wondered.

He walked toward the front desk. The poor clerk looked frightened at the sight of the masked man. Erik ordered two rooms and Christine was relieved for that. Before long, they were going up the stairs to the second floor.

Erik still hadn't put her down.

The second floor was very well furnished; the halls were very clean and there were several lobbies along the way. Erik leaned forward a little, Christine still in his arms, as he placed the key in the lock of a beautifully carved wooden door. With a click, the door was unlocked and Erik shoved the door open with his leg.

He placed Christine down on the bed and then moved to have a quick look at the room's other exits and entrances. There were two windows but they were too high for anyone to try to enter or leave her room through and the only other exit or entrance was the door, which he would be watching at all times. Christine's safety would be assured.

At the same time Erik was checking the room, Christine was looking around as well at the white silk drapes, the mahogany furniture and wide bed. To Christine this room was the most luxurious she had ever seen. It was big and light splashed abundantly from the two wide windows. The bed was wide and by just sitting on it, she could tell how soft and comfortable it was.

"I have ordered a meal to be brought up to your room at once," Erik said, drawing her attention back to him. He then ordered, "You will rest."

With that he turned toward the door.

At the sight of him leaving, Christine's heart leapt in fear, which was something that confused and surprised her at the same time. _Shouldn't I be relieved that he is leaving? _

Erik had reached the door when she suddenly called out to him.

"Where are you going?"

Erik stopped at the panic he heard in her voice. He turned around to see her standing before him now.

"I'm going to my room, which is the one next to yours, here on your left," he said reassuringly.

"Oh," Christine replied embarrassed, her blush increasing. "All right. I'll see you later then," she continued, feeling like an idiot.

Erik nodded, a soft smile tugging at the edges of his mouth as he turned around and walked from her room.

Christine closed the door behind him, leaning against it for a few moments as a sigh escaped her lips. She took a deep breath before walking wearily back to the bed. She fell into it stretching out her arms and legs as a smile lit her face. The bed was so soft and comfortable, Christine wanted to sleep in it and never wake up.

Only before Christine even had a chance to fall asleep, there was a knock on the door. Christine rose from the bed to see who had come. To her surprise, it was the waiter bringing the meal that Erik had ordered for her.

Steam – along with delicious odors - was still coming up from the different dishes and Christine's stomach grumbled at the sight – and smells - in impatience. She thanked the waiter and closed the door before rushing back to the table of food. She ate standing up and in no ladylike manner since she was famished. Most of the food was new to her. She had never eaten anything so tasty in the convent. She also drank from the wine.

A short while later, when Christine had almost finished all the food, there was another knock on the door. Christine grumbled to herself as she opened the door again to see two menservants carrying a bathtub standing in front of her door. Two maids stood to the side holding fresh towels and new clothes.

"What is this?" Christine asked, hardly able to believe that a tub and hot water, soap and new clothes were brought up especially for her.

"This is for you, so you can take a proper bath, with the soap, hot water, and clothes," the reply came from behind the two workers.

Christine turned crimson when her eyes met Erik's.

Her hands were pressed to her heart in a gesture that Erik found very endearing. Without saying another word, she moved out of the way so that the men holding the tub and the two maids could enter.

Once the tub was placed down and the towels placed on the bed alongside the new clothes, they excused themselves and left. Christine found herself once again alone with Erik.

"Thank you, for all this," she said as she elegantly waved her hand toward the tub, the towels, the new clothes and the soap.

"You're very welcome," he replied casually.

With that, he turned around and left her room, closing the door behind him. Her eyes never left him until he was gone.

It was then that it hit her like lightning. For some reason, Christine wasn't afraid of Erik anymore; at least her fear had decreased immensely.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Ned and Phillipe had reached the inn at last.

Phillipe was the first to dismount his horse, walking over to Ned who gently lifted the unconscious girl in his arms and handed her over to Phillipe, who carefully cradled her in his arms until Ned had dismounted his horse. Phillipe then handed her back to Ned, who seemed to be growing more and more protective of the woman with every passing moment.

Phillipe sighed.

"You do realize that now we will have to get a doctor for her and he might ask us questions that might put us on the spot," Phillipe said reasonably.

Both of them were ascending the steps toward the inn. Meg whimpered in Ned's arms.

"Phillipe, you know me. If there is one thing that I excel in, it is convincing people to do my bidding, with words. The doctor will not be a problem," Ned smirked deviously.

Phillipe shook his head as a soft chuckle escaped his lips.

"You, my friend, are going to get us all into trouble," Phillipe stated as he held the door open for Ned to enter.

And people stared again at this new stranger with a woman in his arms.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Christine got out of the tub and wrapped the towel around her slim figure. The bath had been divine.

She dried herself and put her nightgown on. It was so soft and comfortable. Christine loved it. She left her hair loose, thinking to leave it to dry for a while before she went to bed.

Christine held the two new dresses in her hand, touching their soft fabric. One was a yellow dress with lace and puffy sleeves; the other was a cream colored dress with red roses, a heart shaped bodice and short elegant sleeves. They were beautiful and Christine couldn't wait to put one of them on, once morning arrived.

She walked toward the big closet and hung her two new dresses there.

She then turned and put the undergarments she had been provided with in the drawers of the dresser. Christine blushed at the thought that Erik had ordered the undergarments as well.

Once again, there was a knock on the door and Christine opened to let the maids back in. They took the used towels and her old clothes. Two men entered also and they carried the tub out of the room. Once they were finished with their work, they exited her room. Christine closed the door and turned around, to have one more look at her surroundings. It was now, when she was left alone again, that she felt the grip of fear and sadness crushing her heart…and then she remembered…the box!

Christine rushed to the door and opened it, all the while berating herself for having forgotten about the box that her father had left for her. Caught in her panic, Christine didn't think to knock on the door to Erik's room. She just opened the door, to see Erik with wet hair and fresh clothes. He had taken a bath as well, she decided. He smelled so masculine, of sandalwood and the outdoors. His mask was on, only this time, it was a white mask, the same size as the black one.

"Christine?" Erik asked calmly, leaning against the wall next to the window of his room, crossing his arms along his chest. She looked so beautiful in that nightgown, Erik found himself unable to remove his gaze from her.

"I – I " she stammered, flushed and nervous.

Erik straightened his stance and started toward her rigid figure, where she was standing like a statue at his door. As soon as he took a step forward, she took one back. Erik stopped, frowning. Earlier, he had sensed that her fear of him had diminished; yet now, she was acting very afraid again.

"What is it?" he asked gently, patiently. "What's wrong?"

"My father's box," she blurted out, after having gathered her strength and gotten over her mortification.

"Ah, I see" he replied.

Erik gracefully walked toward the dresser and opened the top drawer. He then turned back around to Christine, holding the box in his hands.

"I was going to go to your room, to give it to you, before you barged into my room without knocking" he smirked.

"I'm really sorry," Christine replied, the color heightening in her cheeks.

Erik walked Christine to her room, which was only a few steps away from his, after having handed her the box. He opened the door to let her in.

"Are you certain you will be all right?" Erik asked hesitantly.

"Yes, yes. I'm fine. Thank you. Goodnight," she replied with a smile.

Her smiles, they melted Erik's heart.

He closed the door and walked toward Ned's room to see how the battered woman was doing. All the while he was convincing himself that the only reason he cared about Christine's wellbeing was because he was responsible for her safety…but somewhere deep inside, he knew it was more than that…

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Phillipe knocked on Ned's door before entering.

"How is she?" Phillipe asked, his sight falling on the woman, now covered and sleeping in the bed, as he stood at the foot of the bed.

"Not good," Ned replied. "I removed all her clothes to see if there were more wounds and - " he took a deep breath, "there are - a lot. I even suspect that this woman has been raped. There are bruises on her inner thighs."

"Did you ask for a doctor?" came another voice from the doorway.

Both Ned and Phillipe looked at Erik.

"I did," Ned replied tiredly. "He will be here tomorrow morning. For now, I am trying to get her fever down."

"Get some rest, Ned. We can't afford to have anymore sick people with us," Erik hissed, angry with himself, not Ned. His blood was boiling with feelings of guilt.

"I will," Ned replied with a slight smile.

He knew Erik too well. They had practically grown up together. They had suffered many injustices together and they were like brothers, although Erik would never admit to that. Ned knew that Erik was feeling guilty for his first decision to kill the poor woman.

Erik sighed and Phillipe stood silent.

"Did you find out anything about her identity?" Erik asked.

"Meg. She told me that her name was Marguerite Giry," Ned replied offhandedly. He was leaning down, busy with fixing the soft pillows beneath her head.

Erik stood still for a few moments, very still. Phillipe noticed the change. Erik's eyes had been calm when he had entered the room. Now they were glowing fiercely. Phillipe braced himself; Erik looked ready to explode.

"What did you say her name was?" Erik asked again through gritted teeth, his hands turning to fists.

Ned removed his gaze from the battered girl and straightened his stance. His gaze locking to Erik's, he raised a brow as he asked cautiously, "Do you know her?"

"I know her mother!" Erik roared.

The poor woman's eyes snapped open, filled with fright, and small whimpers escaped her chapped lips.

Erik bit his tongue but it was too late. He had woken her up and terrified her as well. Tears were streaming down her face. Ned gently bent down toward her, trying to wipe the tears away.

"No one will harm you, Meg," he whispered soothingly, a soft reassuring smile playing on his lips, his gentle green eyes never leaving hers. "Go back to sleep."

Meg, being in much pain, closed her heavy eyelids and slipped into sleep just minutes later.

Erik and Phillipe walked out of Ned's room. Ned joined them moments later.

"I want the best doctor in all of France to tend to her. I owe her mother my life," Erik ordered angrily before walking back to his room and slamming the door shut.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Christine had said her nightly prayers and gone to bed but she couldn't sleep. Worry and anxiety kept her awake. Thoughts of the nuns and her friend Mary Catherine, her only family, kept haunting her and she found herself crying. She had told Erik earlier that she believed them dead. And yet she found herself unable to accept that. But what other fate could have awaited them in the burning convent. There was no way of escape. She would have died as well had Erik not saved her.

Her sight fell on the box that was placed on the small table by her bedside and she cried for her Papa and Mama; she cried for being orphaned at such an early age. She cried for her second family that was ripped away from her. She cried for all that had happened.

Erik could hear Christine's soft whimpers. After a few minutes of trying to fight the urge to go to her and comfort her, Erik rose from his bed, cursing under his breath, as he donned his robe, put on his mask, and emerged from his room. He gently knocked on the door to her room.

A few minutes later, a soft click could be heard as Christine peeked out from behind the door, her red rimmed azure eyes widening in surprise at seeing Erik at her door. She gasped as she let the door open wide.

"What is the matter?" Erik asked through gritted teeth.

Christine was nervous. He looked angry and annoyed.

"N – nothing. What made you think that something was wrong?" she asked softly.

Looking at him for a few moments, she knew that he wouldn't budge unless she told him the truth. She took a deep breath, before saying in a shaking, barely audible voice, "I just miss my parents. And my second family, the nuns and Mary Catherine."

She bowed her head and bit her lower lip to stop herself from crying in front of him.

Erik sighed as he entered her room and closed the door behind him. He gathered her into his arms. That act caused her feelings to take the upper hand and she couldn't help the tears from falling again. She didn't fight his embrace; she was grateful for it. Her body was wracked with sobs. Erik's hands gently rubbed her back and stroked her beautiful golden hair. He could feel his robe getting wet from the flood of her tears but he didn't care.

They stood there for a long while. Erik held her protectively in his arms as she continued to cry.

Despite himself, Erik found himself relishing the feel of her in his arms. He loved having her so close to him…he couldn't help denying that feeling any longer… And somehow, he knew that things had just gotten much more complicated…


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: (The Inn) Part Two

**Chapter Six: (The Inn) Part Two**

_November 28, 1860_

_Dear Angel of Music,_

_Today is the one year anniversary of Papa's death. We attended a special Mass in Papa's memory. We prayed and I sang a part of the Requiem. _

_Oh, Angel, after today, I have decided that I do not want to sing anymore. It's too painful. I hope that you can forgive me. Please, please tell Papa to forgive me, as well. I know he wanted me to sing. He always used to tell me that the gift of my voice was a very special gift that God had bestowed upon me. But I wish I were deaf and dumb, for just a chance to see Papa again. _

_I better go now, my hand is shaking, I don't know why. I can't write anymore. And these tears, they keep blinding me. I have to go. _

_I love you, Angel._

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Christine sat by Meg's bedside. She dipped a piece of cloth in clean, fresh water before applying it to Meg's forehead. Ned had gone to get the prescribed medication for Meg and Christine had offered to watch over Meg in his absence.

In her heart, Christine felt a certain empathy to Meg, a sort of camaraderie. After all, both of them had suffered, even though in different ways. Christine was not sure what had exactly happened to this poor woman, lying so helpless and pale in bed. But with all her heart, she wanted Meg to get better and she wished that they could someday become the best of friends.

Christine sighed as she removed the cloth from Meg's forehead, dipping it once again in the water bowl on the small table by her bedside before returning the refreshing coolness to Meg's face once more.

Christine sighed again and leaned back into her chair. She closed her eyes for a moment, her thoughts drifting to Erik, her strange angel, captor, and protector. She hadn't yet seen him today. Last night, he had been so gentle with her. She doubted that she would ever forget the wonderful feel of his strong arms wrapped so tenderly and protectively around her.

In a strange way, she felt relieved, as if she had just been freed of some heavy load. It felt good to have gotten all of her pent up emotions out of her system. Today she felt a sense of peace and strength. The night before, she had mourned the passing of a life. And now with a mixture of dread and excitement, she awaited a new life – a new life she had so unexpectedly found herself tangled up in.

Thinking back on Erik, she wondered why she strangely felt attached to him. When he looked at her with those golden eyes of his, she felt butterflies in her stomach. When he touched her, she burned. And when he spoke, the timbre of his voice, that wonderful melodious tone, sent beautiful shivers through her body. What did all that mean? And how could she possibly feel so strongly for a man she barely knew… a man whom she had known for just two days.

The way he had held her so gently last night… Why, if she didn't know any better, Christine would have thought that he cared for her, as much as she was starting to care for him.

Christine's eyes snapped open at the revelation. Her heart thumped in her chest, a loud beat, as she straightened and stiffened in her chair, mentally slapping herself out of her daydreams.

Impossible. She didn't care for Erik. No, she didn't, Christine rashly convinced herself. As a matter of fact, despite all his kindnesses toward her, she still didn't know if he was her savior or her captor. He hadn't told her anything and that could only mean one thing. His voice rang in her mind, when she had overheard him talking to Ned and Phillipe, when she had gone to bathe in the lake - _The last thing we need is a frightened, hysterical woman on our hands. _

Yes, Christine thought, his voice was heaven but somewhere, there was hell in there as well.

Whatever Erik was keeping from her, it had to be something horrible. She knew it or else he would have told her. Perhaps he was being kind just so that he would gain her cooperation, so that she wouldn't cause him any additional trouble in whatever it was he was doing, Christine concluded, as a chilling sensation ran up her spine.

No, he didn't care for her. How could she have been so foolish as to think, if only for a moment, that Erik would actually care for her. No, he was the kind of person who was distant, aloof, dangerous… yes, dangerous…And Christine would never again allow herself to forget that fact.

"How is she?"

The voice jarred Christine from her thoughts. She looked up as Ned entered the room to take over Meg's care once again. Christine had been so absorbed in her thoughts that she hadn't heard him come in. He was holding a bag in his hands filled with medication and salves.

"She's fine. She's been sleeping all the while."

"Good."

The doctor had arrived early that morning and hadn't been optimistic about Meg's survival chances. She was burning up with fever and she was covered in bruises, scars and wounds, some of which had become inflamed, causing Meg's fever to increase. The doctor had announced that it would take time, weeks perhaps months, for Meg to recover - that is, if she recovered at all. The doctor had prescribed several strong medications for Meg that would help get her fever down. He also prescribed several salves that would help with the mending of her wounds.

Ned walked toward Meg. He placed the bag on the table next to the bowl of water, before bending over Meg and removing the wet piece of cloth from her forehead, placing it back in the bowl of water. He gently touched her forehead. Christine saw the concern and worry in his eyes.

"Thank God, the fever is not increasing anymore," Ned breathed out in relief as if he had been holding his breath.

He turned to look at Christine, who had remained seated in the chair watching silently.

"Erik is waiting for you, Mademoiselle Daee. You had better go," Ned announced, his tone getting back to being casual.

Christine's heart caught in her chest. All through the morning, she had had the oddest feeling that Erik was trying to avoid her. Truth to tell, Christine was somewhat relieved because she didn't think that she was ready to face Erik after last night. She had laid herself bare before him; she had been helpless and sad, mourning in front of him, when she hadn't allowed herself to mourn in front of anyone else or herself. And yet last night, something had snapped in her control, and she had allowed someone, practically a stranger, to see her sadness and loneliness.

Christine warily rose up from the chair and excused herself.

As she emerged into the hall and looked toward her room and Erik's next to hers, she couldn't shake the feeling of anxiety from her heart. Now was her chance to escape, she realized, her entire body frozen to the spot.

They were in a relatively public place after all; the inn had other residents. She could easily slip out and find the nearest police station. She could get help for herself and Meg. After all, when all was said and done, the fact remained that these people - who ever they were - were capable of killing. Yes, Christine remembered the bit of conversation she had overheard; how could she forget?

They were her captors. And now, thanks to her, they were Meg's captors as well. And yet, they acted like protectors instead. Christine shook her head; she didn't want to get herself confused again. The facts were obvious. Maybe if she tried to escape, she would be doing herself and Meg a great favor, perhaps even saving both their lives… but of course, Erik wouldn't really leave her unwatched, no…Christine took a resigned, tentative step toward her room, and his room… her legs felt like weights of lead.

Thoughts rumbled in her mind. Now was her chance to escape, her mind persisted. She could just turn around and walk the other way; make an escape. Run away and get help. Her heartbeat increased with every step she took as a war raged inside of her. She knew she had to make her decision quickly.

Without another thought, Christine impulsively whirled around and began running in the other direction, toward the stairs and the exit. She descended the stairs in a whirl of yellow satin, the skirts of her dress swaying every which way around her slim figure.

Escape…that was the only thought going through Christine's mind, though she wasn't sure if she was escaping from Erik because she feared him and believed that he was her captor, or because the feelings he stirred in her terrified her and she believed that he was her angel …

Blindly she pushed on…escape…she bumped into one of the waiters downstairs, causing the tray to go flying out of the man's hands and the tea he was carrying spilled everywhere.

"I'm so sorry!" Christine called out as she frantically rushed on, making her way toward the exit, any exit. Surely, once outside, there would be carriages…a cab that would take her to the nearest police station. She ran, passing through another lobby downstairs before reaching the information desk, where the clerk was perched.

She could see it, the main entrance, and the exit… freedom.

Just a few more steps… just a few more…an arm suddenly shot out from behind and caught her around the waist halting her. Christine shrieked in terror as the arm whirled her around and she froze, finding herself standing face to face with Erik.

"Going somewhere?" Erik asked very quietly, and the subtle menace in his tone brought cold shivers through her spine. His eyes were blazing, a fierce yellow, like fire.

She fought for a few moments to catch her breath, not able to take her gaze off his glowing eyes.

"I… -… I" she faltered breathlessly.

Erik eyes bore into hers as he continued in a business like tone, "I believe, Mademoiselle Daee, that we have a problem of trust here."

Christine couldn't move. Even if she had wanted to, she could barely stand up let alone speak or attempt to break free of his firm grip. He was crushing her to him and she had to tilt her head all the way back to keep her eyes locked to his. After a few moments of intense silence, Erik's grip loosened on her waist.

Christine sagged against him, her hands clutching his shirt in an attempt to support herself from falling, since her legs felt useless, like liquid, beneath her.

He held her gently. Her breath was still heavy as she buried her face against his strong shoulder, helpless to do anything else.

Erik silently led her upstairs and down the hall to her room, his grip firm and emotionless. Christine could feel it in her soul.

Once they were inside Christine's room, Erik closed the door behind him.

"Don't ever do that again, Christine," Erik whispered in her ear, his voice a mixture of sensuality and warning.

A mixture of fury and desperation welled up inside of her and she suddenly started fighting against his embrace, her small fists hitting him on his chest, pushing futilely in an attempt to break away. She even tried to swing her fist against his face but he caught her flailing arms easily, pinning her to the wall. Erik almost smiled at her futile attempts. He barely felt her so-called hits.

"I will scream if you don't let me go this instant!" Christine yelled at him, her eyes large, beautiful and tearful.

"Go right ahead, my dear. As a matter of fact, I would like to see you try," Erik replied totally composed, not the least bit threatened.

Christine continued to fight, pushing against him with all her might, squirming, trying frantically to get away from him. Erik pinned her more firmly to the wall with his body, so she couldn't move anymore. If only she knew what urges her squirming against his body were igniting in him. Erik had to shake himself, silently, in order to remain in control and not kiss her beautiful, lush, rosy lips.

"You can't do this! There are people around and if I scream they will know! They will call for help!" she said through gritted teeth, furiously, as she continued to valiantly fight, although her attempts were getting weaker by the second.

Erik held both her hands in one of his and yanked them above her head on the wall, though he made sure that the pressure he was exerting was just enough to hold her still without harming her in any way. His other hand was still planted firmly on her waist, his body pinning her to the wall.

She was utterly and completely trapped now, Christine realized. She couldn't even move against him anymore.

He looked down at her for a moment before saying calmly, "I own this inn, Mademoiselle Daee, and everything in it. I own this town." Then he added with a smirk, "Money is power. You would be amazed what people would do to get it, even the police."

The fight had gone out of Christine. She felt trapped, caught, helpless. The fury and the anger had gone right out of her; all she was left with was fear and desperation. And a most unsettling sensation across her body at the feel of Erik's body so closely pressed to hers, an emotion foreign and unknown to her, something beyond her understanding, like fire, swept through her, and it frightened her more than anything.

"Please," she whispered, closing her eyes. A fat crystal tear escaped, rolling like a fallen droplet of rain along her porcelain skin. "Please," she breathed again, exhaustedly.

Erik lowered his head toward those enticing, beautiful, trembling lips. Before he could stop himself, he brushed his lips to hers for just a tender, tremulous moment, his lips barely touching hers.

Christine stilled completely and stiffened as ripples of shock swept through her. Erik withdrew his lips a second later.

Christine opened her eyes, softly panting for breath, shocked, to find herself staring at the most brilliant golden eyes, the most glorious yellow hue she had ever seen. His masked face was so close to hers, his lips a scant inch away from hers.

She could feel his breath on her face. His breathing had become deeper as well, Christine noticed. Oh, God, it was crazy, Christine knew, but she wanted him to kiss her again, and more thoroughly than that fleeting kiss, that beautiful and astounding kiss that he had bestowed upon her. She wanted more, although she didn't know exactly what is was that she wanted.

Erik let go of her abruptly. She almost crumbled to the floor but at the last moment her legs functioned. One of her hands went up to her mouth of its own accord, her fingers brushing her lips.

"Pack your things. We're leaving today," he stated casually, as if nothing had just happened. His posture had gone back to being firm, indifferent, aloof and distant.

Christine looked up at him disbelievingly. After a few moments, when she was able to speak, she started.

"But we can't leave now. Meg will not survive. She needs rest!" Christine protested, trying to buy herself more time as well.

"We leave today, in an hour. Ned will remain with Meg. Once she is better, they will follow us."

He spoke with such finality. Christine knew that any argument would be futile. Even if there was a good argument to make, at the moment Christine couldn't find it. She could barely think! She was too stunned by all that had happened in the previous minutes to think of anything.

Erik briskly turned around and left her to pack, leaving her looking dumbly at him.

Erik walked to his room as if the devil himself were chasing him. His feelings for the chit were becoming more than just mere attraction, he realized. And that frightened the hell out of him. Erik couldn't… wouldn't…care for anyone. He couldn't afford to. He didn't want to.

Erik entered his room and slammed the door behind him.

He had a job to do and now he was determined to see her out of France and to her destination in Italy. He wanted to get the job done as quickly and as soon as humanly possible. He couldn't risk staying close to her for much longer. He knew that if he didn't part from her soon, he would do something foolish - something that would make her more frightened of him than she already was, and that he would regret later.

Erik cursed, as he removed the few clothes he had bought with him for this trip, from the cupboard in his room. He just wanted this mission to be over.

Erik had previous experience with women, in brothels to be precise. This was very, very different, however. His feelings for Christine were more than just lust. Not to mention that Christine was a beautiful, respectable lady…angel. And Erik wanted her more than he had ever wanted any woman in his entire life… to feel her soft lips pressed against his… to feel her body merged with his…Erik mentally slapped himself. He had to get over this; whatever this affliction was, he had to stomp it out of his being.

And yet, the memory of the fleeting kiss, the feel of her soft, rosy lips brushing against his like butterfly wings, stirred him so deeply he groaned as his body reacted to the memory. She tasted like the sweetest honey and the most beautiful heavens - a deadly combination, Erik thought.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Half an hour later, Erik was standing in front of her door. She stood resignedly before him. Her belongings, all of which Erik had bought her except for her father's box, were placed in a small bag that had been brought by one of the maids.

"Let's go."

Erik took hold of Christine's arm and led her down the hall, down the stairs and toward the entrance.

"I would just like to know one thing," Christine whispered. They were outside now, walking toward the horses.

Erik didn't look at her so she continued. "Are you my captor or are you my protector?"

Erik stopped, his grip on her arm loosening. He turned so that he was facing her completely.

"You should know by now that I have no intention of harming you, whatsoever. You need to trust me." Erik stated, as he unwittingly brushed a blond curl away from her face and tucked it gently behind her ear. His eyes were gentle, his tone reassuring, trying to coax away all her fears, as his hand lingered on the side of her neck, buried in her hair.

Christine swallowed, taking a deep breath to control the little tingling sensations that rippled all through her body, making her toes curl at the wonderful touch of his hand.

"I - I'm scared," she whispered almost inaudibly as if she were making a dark confession. She looked so dejected. "I wish I were like you," she continued softly. "You're not afraid of anything."

Erik smiled slightly. It was the first time Christine had seen him smiling and yet there was irony in his smile, Christine could sense that. He turned away from her, as he tied her small bag alongside his satchel on his horse's saddle. He then turned back to Christine, who was watching him silently.

"Madamoiselle Daee, you don't want to be like me, trust me on that one. I wouldn't want that upon any poor soul," he replied with an edge of bitterness in his voice. He continued more gently, "And we all experience fear. None of us are immune to it."

She looked incredulously at him when he mentioned that everyone felt fear. She simply didn't believe him. He wasn't afraid of anything, she thought.

He lifted her up into the saddle before she could comment on his statement and then he swung up behind her.

Before any of them, had a chance to say another word, before Erik had a chance to dig his heels into Cesar's flanks so as to get him moving, a loud, deafening, deadly sound rippled through the calmness; The sound of a gunshot, accompanied by Christine's scream. Erik swung down from his horse with the speed of lightning, bringing Christine down with him and running them over behind some bushes.

She stumbled and fell to the ground. Erik rolled on top of her, placing his hand on her mouth to prevent her from screaming, protecting her with his own body. Her eyes were wide with fear as more gunshots pierced the air.

Cesar balked in fear and galloped in the opposite direction.

"Trust me," he whispered.

Erik had drawn his own pistol. He was aiming at something; she couldn't see what. He fired, all the while shielding her with his body, both of them lying flat on the ground. His other hand placed firmly on her mouth. He could feel her tears wetting his fingers.

He shot again and there was a loud sound of pain as one of the three attackers that Erik had seen and spotted fell dead. Another round of gunshots roared through the air.

Christine didn't know how long she lay clinging to Erik. She didn't know how long the nightmare lasted. All she knew was that she never wanted to hear another pistol fired all her life. She hated the sound; she hated it with all heart.

When it was over, Erik removed his hand from Christine's mouth, allowing a sob to escape her beautiful lips. She was trembling; he could feel her soft, fragile body shaking beneath his.

"It's over," he whispered soothingly as he sat up, leaning against the trunk of a tree. He pulled her into his lap and she sagged against him, burying her tearstained face against his chest, her arms wrapped firmly around his neck. Erik kissed her forehead and held her protectively, cradling her in his arms. Gently, softly, his hand stroked her back, her shoulders, her hair.

Erik didn't worry about the bodies. His men would clean everything up. He just wanted the seraph in his arms to calm down so that they could move on to safety where she wouldn't have to be exposed to such horrors. She seemed to be in shock, and who could blame her after everything she had been through in such a short time.

Without thinking twice about it, Erik began singing softly, an old eastern song, haunting in its beauty.

Christine looked stunned through her tears. In all her days, she had never heard such a beautiful, heavenly, angelic, enchanting voice. Words were not enough to describe the magic of Erik's voice. If Christine had had any doubts before, now they were gone. He was her Angel, for no mortal could possess such a voice.

Erik felt her relax in his arms, her sobbing turning to soft whimpers, then subsiding altogether.

The notes floated around her, entrancing her. His voice caressed her soul and held her heart in its palm. He raised her to the highest heavens, on oceans of peace and beauty, on clouds of paradise, where there were no tears… no death… no fear… no horror… no evil…


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven: (The Inn) Part Three**

_July 30, 1867_

_Dear Angel of Music,_

_How long has it been? I can barely remember. Was it six years or seven years earlier? Ah, time flies. _

_I'm sorry for not writing all these years. I guess that day… Papa's memorial… it really hurt. And when I decided not to sing anymore, I saw no point in continuing to write. I wonder if you have missed me, if only a little bit. I have missed you so, so much. You might be wondering why I am writing again, now, after all these years. I myself don't know the answer to that._

_I had the most wonderful dream last night. I dreamt of you. Perhaps that's the reason I'm writing again._

_In my dream, I was lost, you see. It was dark and a fierce storm was blowing outside. The wind howled menacingly and the sky wailed horribly. I was stuck in the rain, wet and cold… so cold. And I couldn't find my way back to safety or shelter._

_The thunder roared. I cried and tried to run to anywhere but my legs wouldn't move. I thought that I would die. _

_Then, a light appeared in the sky and the darkness was gone. The rain stopped falling. And the cold was no more, only a warm summer breeze blew all around. I found myself standing in endless meadows of green. The birds sang their song, and the sun shone in the sky. And then I saw you. You walked toward me, a shadow, for I could not see your features, no matter how hard I tried. _

_You might wonder how I knew that it was you, my Angel. But I didn't know, my heart and my soul knew._

_I begged you not to leave me. "I'm here," you said. "I'm here." _

_But no matter how I tried to reach out for you, I could not touch you._

_And then Mary Catherine shook me awake. She told me that I had been talking in my sleep. It was then that I realized it had only been a dream._

_But I want to thank you anyway. You saved me from the storm._

_Lovingly,_

_Christine Daee_

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Erik still held Christine in his arms. From where he was, he could see his men cleaning the mess up. He didn't want Christine to see the bodies, so he remained seated there, on the ground, cradling her in his arms. Her arms were wrapped around his neck and her face was still buried in his chest.

"Erik," Christine whispered softly, her voice slightly muffled.

"Yes?"

"Those men - " Christine's voice shook.

Erik instinctively held her tighter to him.

"Shhh. It's over," he whispered in her ear.

His fingers caressed her exposed tearstained cheek and gently kneaded through her golden hair, soothingly.

Christine took a deep shaky calming breath and closed her eyes, relishing his heat and strength. She could hear the beating of his heart, calm and steady. She felt stronger because of it. She wriggled in his arms to adjust her position and looked up at him. He was watching her.

"Erik?" she shyly started again.

A small smile touched his lips. When she looked at him like that, with her beautiful, innocent, trusting eyes…. she bewitched him. Christine hesitated, and Erik could tell that she was nervous, though her eyes never left his.

"What is it?" He asked gently, prompting her to say what she wanted to say.

"Would you - would you sing for me again? Your voice, it's - there are no words to describe how beautiful - " Christine faltered.

Erik saw the color rise in her cheeks as she averted her eyes from his in embarrassment. A moment of silence passed between them. Then, his voice floated around her, softly, caressing her soul, her being, soothing her and entrancing her.

"Angel," Christine sighed dreamily.

Her eyes fluttered closed again, a look of utter peace and contentment appeared on her face. It wasn't long before she fell asleep. The events that had happened had taken their toll on her. It was the first time, in a very long time, since Christine had felt this safe… no nightmares…only peace…beautiful, wonderful peace…

Erik gently lifted her in his arms and carried her back into the inn. She cuddled against him so trustingly that it literally caused his heart to miss a beat. He didn't deserve her trust, he thought bitterly.

Erik returned her to her room, and gently placed her on the bed. He then proceeded to remove her shoes. Once that was done, he pulled the covers over her.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Downstairs, Erik found Phillipe sitting at the bar.

Erik had left two of his best men to guard Christine's room. He had to talk to Phillipe and then he would return to Christine's side.

"Where the hell have you been?"

Phillipe sighed before answering.

"I went to see if any new messages have arrived for us. You know." Phillipe raised his glass of brandy up to his lips but Erik took the glass out of his hand.

"I do not want any of you drunk while on duty, damn it," Erik ordered. "Whatever is bothering you, I suggest you get over it. Do I make myself clear? We have a serious problem."

Phillipe buried his face in his hands for a moment, before looking back at Erik and saying, "You're telling me. After receiving a message from my men, informing me that Sorelli, my fiancée, the woman I love, has found out that I am indeed not on a business trip, as I had told her."

Phillipe didn't know why he was continuing to confide in Erik about his personal life. While on duty, none of them really discussed any personal issues, and yet, he wanted to get it out.

"Now, she thinks I'm cheating on her, that I have a mistress. There will be hell to pay when I return. I just don't know how to clear up this mess. I certainly can not tell Sorelli the truth now - it would only endanger her." Phillipe sighed yet again. "And then, I come back here to find everything turned upside down."

Phillipe frowned as he silently tried to make sense of what had happened. He then exclaimed indignantly, looking around for a moment before his eyes met Erik's, "How in the world did they get this close? They were here. It just doesn't make any sense!"

"It does," Erik snapped, before adding menacingly, "We have a traitor in our midst and I want to know who."

"What?" Phillipe said disbelievingly. "Erik, surely you can't believe that?"

"They knew where to leave Marguerite Giry. They knew I would stop here for a while. Someone on the inside is giving them information," Erik replied chillingly, before going on. "You and Ned are my most trusted men. Since Ned is looking after Marguerite Giry, I want you to find who the traitor is."

Phillipe nodded before asking.

"Do you want me to tell Ned?"

"Yes. Let him be on his lookout, as well."

"All right."

Erik rose abruptly and started walking away.

"Wait," Phillipe called out as he rose and hurried toward Erik.

"How will I know where to find you if I catch the traitor?" he asked confidentially.

"I'll find you," Erik replied.

The traitor could be anyone, including Phillipe…Erik knew that…Now all he had to do was wait for the traitor to slip…And then…Erik smirked chillingly…

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Walking back to Christine's room, Erik dismissed the guards.

Christine flew into his arms as soon as he entered her room.

"What is it?" he asked worriedly as he held her protectively in his embrace. She was shaking like a leaf.

"When I woke up, you weren't here! And - And those men at the - the door, they wouldn't let me go out! I thought –"

Christine's voice broke on a sob.

"You thought I had left you," Erik prodded gently.

She nodded against his chest. Erik sighed and carefully led her back to the bed where he sat her down. At the small table by the bed, the maid had placed the things that Erik had ordered. He bent over and mixed the herbs with a bit of brandy, then added some orange juice over the mixture to sweeten the potion a bit. Turning back to Christine with the glass in his hand, he sat next to her and brought the cup to her lips.

"Here. I want you to drink this."

Christine wrinkled her nose and looked at him curiously.

"What is it?"

"It will help you to relax. Drink it and then we'll talk."

She took the glass from him and took a sip. She made a little disgusted sound but when she attempted to move the glass away from her lips, Erik placed his hand over hers and brought the glass back to her lips.

"Drink it all up."

"But it burns. And it's bitter."

"Drink," Erik replied firmly, a twinkle of humor in his eyes.

Christine groaned and took another sip, and another, as Erik continued to tip the glass to her mouth. When she had drunk it all, Erik placed the glass back on the table.

"Now," Erik said, turning back to look at her. "I believe that I owe you an apology."

Christine looked so stunned that Erik almost found himself smiling. Did he really look that intimidating, he thought, so that an apology from him seemed to her as if he had just told her that pigs could fly?

He cleared his throat. He had never done this before and it seemed awkward. He wanted to laugh at the irony of it.

"I should have done things differently. I have been most inconsiderate," he added.

After a moment of silence, Christine asked cautiously, "So are you going to tell me what's going on, why those men were shooting at us?"

She looked at him curiously.

Erik had decided to tell her a part of the truth, as he should have done at the beginning. He knew that he couldn't tell her the whole truth, but a part of it would do.

"All I can tell you is that I am here to protect you. I made a promise a long time ago and I intend to keep it."

His answer was cryptic but at least he was talking, Christine thought with a mixture of relief and hope.

"What did you promise?"

"I promised to keep you safe."

Erik raised his hand and caressed her cheek

"And the convent," Christine's voice trembled with emotion. "Were you one of those who burned the convent?"

"I had nothing to do with the burning of the convent."

Though her expression was that of relief, her eyes filled with tears when she asked the next question. "Do you - Do you think that perhaps, they could have survived – "

"I don't know," Erik replied honestly.

It was hard to imagine anyone surviving that vicious fire that had scourged the convent.

"I had a garden of roses, you know," Christine said so quietly that her voice was almost inaudible, but Erik heard.

He watched her as she rose and walked toward the window, looking out at nothing in particular. A soft smile appeared on her lips and her eyes had a distant glow to them. "They were my roses. I even named them."

She turned her head to look at him for a moment before turning again to the window, her hands gripping the windowsill tightly as she continued, "They probably got burned in the fire."

Erik stood and walked toward her. He gently placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and turned her around, so that she was facing him.

"Christine," Erik said gently. "We have to get moving. I will be taking you to my country manor where we will stay for a while."

Erik would take her there, where it was safe, until the traitor was found.

"Your country manor?" Christine repeated in surprise and confusion. "But - "

"Christine, do you trust me?"

Christine looked at him intently for a moment, before she slowly nodded her reply.

"Then trust me now."

And with that he pulled her into his arms and held her there. Wanting to comfort her, Erik added, "And there is a big garden there, filled with roses."

"Promise me that you won't leave me."

Of all the things that Erik had expected her to say, this was not one of them. Her statement took him by complete surprise. He faltered for a few moments, not knowing what to say or do.

Erik knew that soon they would have to part. And she would forget all about him...but for now…

"I'm here," Erik replied with that heavenly voice of his. "I'm here."


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks so much for the lovely reviews. And now, without further delay I present to you the new chapter. This chapter contains a quote from Leroux.

Long Live Phantom!

**Chapter Eight: "The Country Manor" Part One**

_August 5, 1867_

_Dear Angel of Music,_

_Today I went berry picking with Mary Catherine, Sister Luisa, and Sister Martha. Then when we got back, Mary Catherine and I retreated to the library to read. We have been reading fairy tales. Cinderella…the lost slipper…and her Prince Charming; Beauty and the Beast…the curse…the love; Sleeping Beauty…the enchantment…the kiss._

_I know those are just fairy tales, but, oh Angel, perhaps one day love will find me, and I will know how it feels to be in love. _

_Mary Catherine told me all about her Dream Prince. And that one day he will come on his white horse and sweep her off her feet, and they would ride into the sunset to live together, happily ever after. _

_But for me, I just wish to see you, to hear you, Angel. Will you come for me?_

_Lovingly, _

_Christine Daee _

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Marseille, France…

Erik dismounted his horse, carrying Christine in his arms. She was beyond exhausted. They had ridden without resting for a whole day. Erik himself was tired. Having been held in his arms for that entire tedious journey, Christine had continually fallen in and out of sleep.

He would get Christine into the house and then he would return outside to tend to Cesar, who had not been hurt in the shoot-out which had taken place the day before, at the inn.

Here he was, at his personal hideout. He had never brought anyone to his country Manor before. The house was in an isolated area situated on a small hill that overlooked the Mediterranean Sea. This was the place to which Erik retreated when he wanted to think, relax or compose music. Endless meadows surrounded the house in every direction, except for the descending plain of rock and grass on the one side that led down to the seashore.

Erik walked up the steps and into the salon. He then veered to the right as Christine sighed and snuggled closer to him.

Erik opened the door to the guest room and walked in. He gently, carefully, placed Christine on the bed. Unwillingly, he found himself watching her. She truly was an angel, he thought. She looked so beautiful, was so beautiful inside and out.

A second later, Erik found himself in a dilemma and he almost laughed at the absurdity of the situation. He was unsure whether to remove Christine's dress, so that she might be able to sleep comfortably, or if he should just leave it be, so that she wouldn't think that he had disrespected her. And since when did he become so considerate of people's feelings and emotions? Erik found himself wondering.

Finally, he made up his mind. Erik wouldn't remove Christine's dress for that certainly was a boundary he shouldn't, and wouldn't, cross. He would just untie the lacings of the dress so that Christine would be able to sleep comfortably.

Erik certainly had pushed her to the limits of her strength. He regretted the way he had made them travel. But they couldn't afford to take a carriage; that would have wasted precious time, and it could, and would have, endangered both him and her.

Erik slowly sat on the bed by Christine. He then gently lifted her in his arms so that she was in a semi-sitting position. He anchored one arm around her waist and abdomen, for support, and brought his other hand to her back. Christine sighed and snuggled closer to him, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

Her scent of velvet and roses assailed his senses and her soft blond curls caressed Erik's fingers as they gracefully moved across Christine's back, untying the lacings of her yellow dress.

Erik cursed inwardly; this certainly was a punishment for all his misdeeds, he thought humorously. Having her body so close to his, her soft skin… it was painful to want something so badly and to know that you could never have it. What was wrong with him? Erik berated himself. Since when did he start caring so much about anyone or anything?

And now, his stay with her would be prolonged…

Once the lacings where untied, Erik gently laid her back on the bed and covered her. She sighed contentedly again and turned to her side, now under the covers. Erik watched her for a moment before turning around and walking out of her room.

Erik pushed his hands through his black hair smoothing it back along his head before turning from Christine and walking to the door. He had to tend to Cesar.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Christine awoke to the soft morning light that came streaming through the windows. She was in a strange room. Sitting up in bed, Christine looked around. White silk drapes adorned two big windows in the room and, from her position in the bed, she could see a mahogany dresser and a big armoire, both meticulously and beautifully carved. For a moment, Christine found herself wondering who had made them. Then, there was the bed she was in, a rather large four-poster bed, soft and comfortable.

Christine brought her legs to the edge of the bed and sat up. Her feet came to rest on the carpeted floor and she slowly stood up. She yawned and stretched. It was then that she noticed that her dress was loose. Had Erik untied the lacings? She wondered with a blush. When she had worn this dress at the inn, a maid had helped her with the lacings. She couldn't tie the lacings by herself because she couldn't reach them and she couldn't possibly call for Erik and ask him to tie the lacings for her. That was out of the question.

Suddenly, the sound of music filled the air, bringing Christine out of her thoughts. She looked at the door of her room and tried to decipher the direction the music was coming from. It was the most beautiful, heavenly music she had ever heard.

The music was so powerful, so wonderful, that Christine forgot all about her dress and the lacings; all she could think about was the music. She walked toward the wooden door of her room and opened it.

Walking down the hall, Christine noticed that Erik's residence was filled with all manner of exotic things. Beautiful and unique portraits were hanging along the walls. Here a rare vase, there a priceless ornament. There was an eerie yet peaceful feel to the house, Christine realized, just as there was an eerie yet heavenly feel to the music that continued to assault her senses relentlessly.

The closer she got to the source of the music, the more entranced she became and the more oblivious to anything around her but the music and her Angel.

She walked past the salon and to a half open door. The music became louder and much clearer. Without thinking, Christine pushed the door further open and walked in, a look of absolute awe on her face.

Erik's keen hearing picked up the sound of Christine's soft entrance and he abruptly stopped playing the piano and turned around.

As soon as the music stopped, Christine's expression sobered. Erik's blazing eyes met her cerulean ones.

"I'm sorry," she said apologetically. "I didn't mean to interrupt. It's just that I woke up… and the beautiful music…"

Christine stopped short, unable to say another word, feeling utterly lost in Erik's gaze.

"No need to apologize, Mademoiselle Daee," he replied smoothly. "I hope that you slept well."

His inquiry set her cheeks aflame as she remembered the undone lacings of her dress. For all she knew, the dress could fall off her shoulders at any moment. She was horrified by the prospect. However, she refused to let Erik see her embarrassment. She raised her chin and replied as calmly as possible, "Yes, as a matter of fact, I slept quite well. And you?"

"I don't sleep much," Erik shrugged as he rose and walked toward her.

Christine started to take a step back but Erik stopped her by placing both his hands on her shoulders. Christine's pulse quickened.

"Allow me to tie the lacings of your dress, Mademoiselle. We don't want that dress to fall off, now, do we," he said silkily as he gently turned her around. She didn't resist.

When the dress was laced, Erik breathed at last.

"Now, Mademoiselle Daee," Erik said casually as he led her out of the music room. They walked through the salon, which Christine now inspected briefly with her eyes. Marble floors, elegant furnishings, glass doors that led to a balcony overlooking the glorious sea.

When they reached the dining room, Christine's heart fell. The table was set for one. There was a candelabra on the table and a vase of roses.

"You must be hungry," Erik stated as he pulled out a chair for her. Christine hesitated for just a moment and then sat down.

"You're not hungry?" she inquired softly, looking up at him

"If you don't like to eat alone, Mademoiselle Daee, just say so."

"Well, maybe I don't," Christine replied defiantly, looking him straight in the eye.

The side of his mouth quirked up in what Christine thought was a light smile.

"Then I shall join you," he retorted, pulling a chair out and sitting opposite her on the table.

There was no plate in front of him and she looked questioningly at him.

"I don't eat much," Erik answered her unasked question.

"Oh."

Erik filled his glass with orange juice and added, "But I do drink."

Christine visibly brightened and gave him one of her radiant smiles as she said, "But you should eat you know. It's not healthy if you don't eat. Father always said that a well nourished body makes an intelligent mind."

He was looking at her keenly before he asked, or more like stated, "You loved your father very much."

Christine's eyes fogged up and she felt a lump rising in her throat as she nodded silently. A few moments later, Christine started without thinking, the words just slipping out of her mouth, a distant look of longing in her eyes, "He used to play the violin and I would sing along."

Then realizing that she had said more than she had wanted or intended to, her expression became composed and she looked at Erik and attempted to smile but failed miserably. Even she knew how weak the smile she gave him must have looked.

"So you used to sing?" Erik asked with veiled interest as he took a sip of the orange juice.

He might have just found a way to pass these few days, or perhaps weeks, that they would be forced to spend together. Erik knew that if something wasn't done, he would sooner or later ravish her, and that was out of the question.

With the fork in her hand, Christine toyed with the food on the plate in front of her for a moment before looking back at Erik.

"Yes, I used to sing," she admitted, "but never again."

"Why?" he asked bluntly.

Christine was taken aback for a moment before she replied calmly, refusing to take the cowardly way out, "Ever since papa died…I…it's just too painful…the memories…singing…"

"I see."

Erik abruptly rose up from his chair, startling Christine for a moment. He then gently grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out of her chair.

"What? - Where?" Christine asked startled.

Erik didn't reply but led her back to the music room. He stood her by the piano and sat down. He played several scales on the piano, with ultimate ease, before looking up at her beautiful soft confused features.

"Sing," he ordered in a no-nonsense tone. There was a finality in his order and Christine found herself unable to argue or refuse.

Without thinking about it twice, she began with the scales that Erik was playing. Erik went up higher to see how far she could go. Her voice went up with the notes. Erik could tell that she had an excellent quality to her voice but she needed training, guidance and passion. She sang without feeling and her voice was rusty from the long years she had spent without singing.

It was in those moments, when Christine was lost in the music, singing the scales as if she were singing some enchanting song, that she realized how much she had missed singing and longed for music. The Angel of Music had not come for her, not till now, and she remembered her papa's exact words: _"The Angel of music is heard by those who are meant to hear him. He often comes when they least expect him, when they are sad and disheartened. Then their ears suddenly perceive celestial harmonies, a divine voice, which they remember all their lives. Persons who are visited by the Angel quiver with a thrill unknown to the rest of mankind. And they can not touch an instrument, or open their mouths to sing, without producing sounds that put all other human sounds to shame. Then people who do not know that the Angel has visited those persons say that they have genius."_

Christine's voice cracked on one of the high notes. Erik stopped playing the scales and she stopped singing, coming back to her senses. Her hands moved to her throat and a soft "Oh" escaped her lips, as if she could scarcely believe that she had just sung again, and feeling embarrassed that her voice had cracked like that.

"It's all right," Erik said as he rose and stood before her. "We have a lot to work on. But with the right drills and practice, you will shine."

Erik positioned himself behind her. She gasped softly when she felt his hand on her waist. His other hand was on her ribcage, his fingers were almost brushing the undersides of her breasts. Christine's breath caught in her chest as tingles of sensation flooded her body from head to toe.

"Let your voice come from here," he said as he applied a little pressure, straightening her posture.

A moment of silence passed between them. Christine could hardly breath - he was so close. And Erik could hardly think anymore as he held Christine close to him. It was magic…

When Erik noticed what was happening, he withdrew his hands quickly.

"Now start again," he said abruptly, authoritatively.

He sat again before the piano and began to play as if that moment of magic had never passed between them. Christine faltered for a few moments before she regained her wits and was able to start singing again. This time her voice did not crack on that high note but it did waver.

Erik made her sing the scales several times before he stopped playing and stood again.

"Our lessons will begin tomorrow. For now, I want you to practice those scales."

"But I can't-"

Christine tried to protest but he cut her sentence short. Standing before her, he brought his masked face within an inch of her lovely one. "Yes, you can," he said firmly. "Your father would not have wanted you to give up."

He then turned around and walked toward the door, leaving her looking at him, shocked. He looked over his shoulder as he donned his black cloak. "I need to go out on some errands. I'll be back in an hour. Don't worry; you're safe here."

Even if Christine wanted to say something, she couldn't. She heard the sound of the door shutting closed behind Erik and sank onto the settee in the music room. She was going to sing again! She could hardly believe it! But could she really do this? She wondered. She had mixed feelings about this whole thing. Dread and hesitation, because she knew that singing was painful to her; it awakened memories that she had locked inside of her for so long. But perhaps it was time that she faced and accepted the past. Erik was here, her own Angel of Music, Christine thought with a thrill she had never felt before.

Dazedly she rose from the settee and set out to inspect the house more thoroughly. It wasn't a small house by any means. It was elegant and exotic, Christine thought. The living room, the dining room, the kitchen, the music room, and the bedrooms; it wasn't until now, that Christine noticed that fact.

Christine wondered what Erik's room must look like but she instantly brushed the thought aside. She wandered toward the front door and opened it, relishing the feel of the outdoors. Green meadows met her sight. The breeze blew by and the leaves on the trees rattled gently. She could hear the sound of the crashing waves coming from below, on the rocky edge of the hillside. The sea lay beneath her gaze to one side, with all its majesty. Christine inhaled deeply, contentedly. This was a piece of Heaven on earth, she thought delightedly.

Finally, everything seemed right. It was like seeing the sun after a storm, like warmth after an icy cold winter. Christine felt peaceful and a sense of joy washed over her.

Looking up at the blue sky above, Christine whispered softly, "Thank you."


	9. Chapter 9

Now ladies and gentlemen, without further delay I present to you the new chapter!

**Chapter Nine: (The Country Manor) Part Two**

_August 8, 1867 _

_Dear Angel of Music,_

_Today after Mass, I went for a walk in the gardens of the convent. And guess what I found! Beneath one of the trees, I found a baby bird - it was so small and fragile, with no feathers at all. My heart broke for it. You see, the poor thing was so frightened. It had fallen out of its nest in the tree. _

_I scooped it up in my palm. And then I decided that the best course of action was to return it to its nest up in the tree. I don't know if I've told you this before, but I'm good at climbing trees. When I was little, one of my favorite pastimes was to climb up a tree, and watch the sunset. _

_So I climbed up the tree, found the little bird's nest, and placed it back in. It felt so good, Angel, to know that I was able to help this poor little bird get back to its home, and family… Home… _

_Lovingly,_

_Christine Daee_

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Christine wrapped her arms around her waist as her gaze happily lingered on the sea. Every wave seemed to be chasing the other as they raced toward the shore, crashing on the rocks and then rolling onto the sand. It was as if they were trying to get to some place they never could reach.

The breeze blew by, caressing Christine's face. She breathed deeply of it. Minutes passed by as Christine stood there, in awe and reverie.

Unable to resist the pull of the sea any longer, she made her way toward the rocky edge of the downward slope. Carefully, she descended, holding on, making her way through rock and slippery shrubbery. The rocks beneath were uneven but Christine refused to give up. She carefully and slowly continued her descent.

Ten minutes later, Christine's feet touched the sand. She stood there momentarily, her hand to her chest, catching her breath, before bending down and removing her shoes. Holding them in one hand, Christine walked toward the waves. How long had it been since she had last felt the warm sand beneath her feet, Christine silently wondered.

Oh, she remembered it so well - those wonderful days at the house by the sea. Running on the shore, building castles in the sand…Raoul… how he had saved her scarf from the sea that day so long ago when she was but a little girl. Christine smiled slightly at the memory. It had been so long since Christine had last heard or known anything about him.

As she walked toward the waves, Christine frowned as she suddenly remembered something she had heard recently…Raoul, his name had been Raoul De Chagny, her childhood friend…Her thoughts rushed back to a few days ago, to that cottage in the middle of nowhere, when Phillipe had introduced himself to her…Phillipe De Chagny… that was his name. Was Phillipe somehow related to Raoul? Christine thought.

_Nonsense_… She brushed the thought aside.

The waves tickled her feet and Christine laughed gaily as she raised her dress knee high and ran along the shore, playing with the waves that fell at her feet. She felt so free, so happy and so peaceful.

Forgetting all about getting her dress wet, Christine let go of the hem and stretched her arms out, twirling once beneath the blue sunny skies, embracing the cool breeze and then chasing the waves again. She knew that if anyone saw her, they would probably think that she had lost her mind, but in that delicious, carefree moment, she didn't care. Christine felt wonderful and nothing in the world could stop her from laughing.

She fell on the sand and lay there staring at the sky, feeling the waves at her feet, wetting the hem of her dress. Oh, it was the most beautiful feeling in the world - this feeling of serenity and peace. Erik, her Angel, was the reason. Christine felt her pulse quicken at the thought of him…He, her strange Angel…

"Erik," Christine whispered softly, letting the name linger on her lips, tasting the feel of his name as it rolled on her tongue.

"Erik," Christine whispered dreamily again.

Somehow through tragedy and mystery, he had come to her… for her… a dream out of a nightmare. Christine's heart fluttered within her chest and she couldn't stop smiling.

Closing her eyes, Christine decided to take a small nap, only for a few minutes. Then she wanted to go back to the house and prepare lunch. And she would see to it that Erik ate.

The waves continued their dance…

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Ned awoke with a start. He had been sitting in that damned chair beside Meg's bed for almost two hours. It was that dream again, always that same one. He hated it when he drifted off, only to be plagued with the past. He knew that Erik scarcely slept and Erik's nightmares where far worse then anything Ned could ever imagine. And yet, Ned supposed as he wearily massaged his forehead, that everyone carried their own demons.

"Where am I?" Meg rasped tiredly.

Her voice jolted Ned out of his thoughts. She was still feverish but at least she was awake now. Ned was thankful for that.

"You're safe," he replied, leaning forward. He moved his hand toward her face in order to remove the wet cloth from her forehead. Meg flinched and held the covers snuggly up to her chin, with trembling hands.

"Don't touch me!" she squeaked weakly, looking terrified.

Ned froze for a moment, taken aback by the extent of the fear he saw in her eyes. Justifiably so, he thought, for he knew that she must have been through hell. He slowly leaned back in his chair and raised his hands in surrender, in an attempt to assure her that he meant her no ill will.

"I mean you no harm," he said, smiling lightly, his gaze warm and friendly, eyes strikingly green.

She looked him over for a moment, as far as her sight would allow from her position on the bed. She seemed to be contemplating something. Ned waited patiently. A few moments later, she hesitantly looked back into his eyes, her black/blue eyes gleaming with tears of uncertainly.

Meg felt so helpless and angry. Why must she find herself at the mercy of another man? Why was life so cruel? Wasn't it enough what those other men had done to her - raping and beating her almost to death. She didn't want to remember or think about it.

"I don't know who you are," she bit out angrily, sniffing tearfully.

Ned's smile widened, not a threatening smile, but a tender, reassuring smile.

"My name is Ned Sinclair. Meg, there is no need to be afraid of me."

Meg hesitated for a moment, holding the covers more snuggly to her chin, before inquiring suspiciously, "Who told you my name?"

"You did."

"I did not!" she retorted haughtily as she sniffled again.

"I'm afraid you did."

Meg eyed him wearily, before looking at the window. Outside the light shone so brightly.

"Why am I here?" Meg asked tiredly, her gaze still lingering on the window.

"We found you and bought you here. You were very feverish - you still are. But I'm glad that you're awake." Ned rubbed his palms against his tired eyes and forehead, pushing his brown hair back. He added reassuringly, "Once you're better, I'll escort you back to your mother."

In the next instant, her shocked gaze locked with his. Ned could have bit his tongue in that moment. He knew he shouldn't have mentioned her mother. Her hands were shaking and her voice wavered.

"How do you know about my mother?" she exclaimed accusingly as if she had just caught him stealing, or cheating.

"In your feverish sleep…" Ned's voice trailed off as he watched her keenly.

It was only half the truth but he was not lying, for she had revealed a lot about herself and her life in her feverish ravings.

She moved her lips in an attempt to speak but no sound came out. She looked exhausted and outraged all at once.

She just looked at him, too tired to speak anymore. He could see that she was fighting to stay awake. Slowly her tired eyes drooped closed. Despite her best efforts, she could not fight the waves of extreme fatigue that washed over her as healing slumber carried her in its arms.

Ned sighed as he brought his hand to her face, gently, soothingly caressing her pale cheeks, forehead and raven hair.

Atonement…Yes, Ned knew all too well the meaning of the word…

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Erik dismounted Cesar. He took him to the small stable that he had built especially for his stallion. The stable was several feet away from the house. After he had Cesar settled in, Erik left the stable intending to return to the house to find Christine.

As he turned to head to the house, something down on the seashore caught the corner of his eye. Erik's keen vision never missed. Walking toward the rocky edge, to get a better look, Erik's heart missed a beat at the sight that met him. Christine was lying on the sand, motionless. She looked like a portrait. His pulse quickened with worry.

He quickly made his way down.

Kneeling beside Christine's limp form, Erik's fear escalated. He gently lifted her in his arms. To his extreme relief, she was breathing.

"Christine," he said gently.

She groaned and opened her eyes. Her gaze turned from sleepy to shocked within the span of an instant as her eyes met Erik's.

"Erik," she said groggily

Erik helped her sit up and then let go of her. He then stood. Christine rose to her feet as well. Erik could feel his hands slightly shaking. He was shocked to see the extent of the effect she had on him. The thought of harm coming to Christine had shaken Erik so badly. Before this moment, Erik hadn't realized how deeply he cared for her.

She was standing before him, bathed in the sun. Erik's breath caught in his chest. And his hands turned into fists at his side, enraged with himself.

"I was just taking a nap," Christine clarified.

"I see," Erik said in a clipped voice.

"Oh, Erik," Christine exclaimed with a smile, completely oblivious to the fact that she had used Erik's name for the first time since they had met. "It's so beautiful!"

Erik's pulse increased as he realized she had called him by his name, no formalities, just Erik. When everyone else had seen a monster and a demon, she had seen an Angel and a man. Erik's breathing stopped for a moment, the ache deepening in his heart.

Before he could stop himself, Erik wrapped his arms around Christine's slender waist and drew her to him. She gasped in shock, her eyes growing wide as her body gently collided with his.

"Erik? What? - "

Before she had a chance to say another word, his mouth slanted over hers, silencing her with a gentle and yet demanding kiss.

For a few moments Christine stood there unable to do anything but feel, as his lips moved over hers, tasting… teasing. In the next instant, Christine found herself responding to him, her lips moving in complete harmony with his. Pleasure, waves of pleasure, moved through her body.

The breeze blew and caressed them and the waves continued to crash.

Erik's hands moved up and down Christine's back, circling her waist and moving up to caress her neck and cheeks, then to bury themselves inside the golden tresses of her hair.

The kiss deepened. Christine's rosy lips parted in surrender to Erik's urging and his tongue swept into her mouth, tasting her sweetness. Christine melted into his arms, moaning softly, unable to control the feelings coursing through her being.

Christine's hands, which rested on Erik's chest, moved upward of their own accord. She wrapped her arms around Erik's neck.

Having her close, holding her in his arms, tasting her, for the first time, Erik felt alive. Kissing her was like inhaling the breath of life.

The kiss ended all too soon as Erik forced himself to stop. They stood there silently for a few moments, breathless in each other's arms, eyes locked. Christine's lips were swollen from being so thoroughly kissed, and she looked flushed.

Instantly, Erik forced himself away from her. Guilt washed through him. He truly was a bastard, he thought to himself. Silently, he swore never to let things get out of hand as they had just now.

"I'm sorry," he said raggedly. "This wasn't supposed to happen. I apologize."

Getting back to his full composure, he looked at her. Christine looked embarrassed and yet there was a glow in her face and eyes that took him by complete surprise.

"I like it a lot when you kiss me," she confessed shyly, blushing even more as she averted her eyes from his.

Another deadly blow to his heart…

"Let's go," Erik ordered gently, ignoring her last statement as he gave her his hand.

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"Three men! I have lost three more men because of that corpse!"

He slammed his hand against his desk, causing picture frames to jolt and sway, alongside the files resting there. A pen fell to the carpeted floor.

"My Lord, I realize your frustration. However, I do believe that I may have found a way to catch that monster, and Gustav's daughter, Christine Daee" the second man said.

"I'm listening."

A sly smile crossed the second man's face, knowing that his idea would please his master, and he would probably get a raise.

"Phillipe De Chagny."


	10. Chapter 10

Thank you guys for all the wonderful reviews! I love hearing from you.

**Chapter Ten: (The Country Manor) Part Three**

_August 15, 1867_

_Dear Angel of Music,_

_Sister Monica is very ill. She has been sick for a few days now. We are all praying for her. Sister Luisa and Sister Martha were on the verge of tears today in the morning. Mother Superior tried to encourage us all, but I know that Sister Monica's condition is serious. Mary Catherine and I stayed up all night praying for her. _

_And now, I am starting to panic. Oh, Angel, I don't want her to die. Why do bad things have to happen? _

_I have been praying so much. Angel, would you please pray with me? _

_Tell Him, Angel, please, tell God to heal Sister Monica. _

_Lovingly,_

_Christine Daee_

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Christine's brows delicately pleated in concentration as she scanned the music sheet Erik had given her. It was a part of an Opera called "Faust". She was to sing the part of "Margarita". Christine was not familiar with this piece. After several minutes of futilely trying to read the notes, Christine lifted her eyes back to Erik who was seated by the piano, waiting.

"I, um - " Christine started a bit embarrassed. "I'm not familiar with this piece. And it's been so long since I last sang." She trailed off, waiting for Erik's reaction.

"That's fine. Christine. Just follow my lead."

With that, Erik started playing the piece, to familiarize Christine with the music. Then he asked her to sing. She started, faltering every now and then. Sometimes she would sing an off note. Erik always stopped when she missed a note or faltered, correcting her and asking her to repeat that part. After an hour, Christine was able to sing the song fairly well. Turning in his seat, Erik regarded Christine.

"You did well, but we still have much to practice."

Christine was pleased with herself. She knew that she hadn't sung the piece half as well as it was supposed to be sung, but she was proud that she had mastered the piece fairly well. With practice, she was sure she would be good. She smiled at him.

"I know I didn't sing it quite the way it is supposed to be sung. I'm sorry for that," Christine amended.

"This was your first time singing this piece, and accordingly, you did well, Christine." Erik paused a moment, as if contemplating something, then went on. "Now, I want you to sing me one of the songs your father used to play for you."

The color drained from Christine's face and her eyes widened in surprise and dread.

"Wh - what?" she asked, hugging her waist and moving a step back from the piano, in nervousness.

Erik swore silently. He hated ruining the peaceful mood that they had enjoyed during the lesson. It was imperative that Christine sing something that meant happiness and family to her. She would feel the emotions of the song and that was one of the basics that Erik was trying to teach her. She had sung "Faust" well enough, for a first practice; but while singing it, there had been no semblance of any emotion, one of Christine's biggest flaws in singing. It was such a shame; such a voice would go to waste because of lack of practice and emotion. With that thought in mind, Erik pressed on.

"You heard me. Sing something your father used to play for you," he casually but firmly stated as if he hadn't noticed what his request was doing to her. Christine paled even more and shook her head violently back and forth.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, looking back at him, her big blue eyes tearful, her tension rising. "I can't. I just can't."

Betrayal and hurt were stamped upon her face, as if Erik had just stabbed her in the back. Christine whirled, lifted her skirts slightly in her hands and in a flash of yellow and white silk, she ran from the room. Erik swore again under his breath as he quickly rose from the piano bench and went after her.

Christine made her way blindly to her room. She should have known that he would betray her like this. She had agreed to sing because she loved singing, although she had tried to stop. Erik's teaching her had given Christine new hope and a sense of joy and peace. Then he had to ask her to sing something that would remind her of every single, painful reason that had caused Christine to stop singing for all those years. It was as if she had gone ten years back and was standing in the church singing part of the requiem for her father's one-year anniversary memorial. Why, oh why, did Erik do that to her? She had told him how much it hurt her to remember.

She had just reached her room and was attempting to turn the door knob with her trembling hand, when, before she could discern what was happening, she felt a strong arm around her waist, gently turning her around. She was being held in a tight, warm embrace, pressed against a solid chest.

"Don't cry," Erik whispered as he kissed the top of her head.

"He said that he was c-coming back. He told me he would be b-back." Christine whimpered, her voice shrill and squeaky. "B-but he never came. He left me forever."

A sob tore from the depths of Christine's being. She was helpless to stop it, nor could she stop the flood of words that, once begun, now came rushing out of her.

"I always waited for him, b-but he never came, and then the sisters at the c-convent told me that he had died, in an a-accident," she whimpered, making fists in his shirt, pressing her face and body closer to him as if she could melt into him. Erik held her tighter, his hands moving soothingly, tracing small circles with his thumb across her back.

Holding her so close, Erik froze for a moment as a surge of protectiveness and emotion washed over him.

The next thing Christine knew she had been swept up into Erik's strong arms and was being carried down the hall. Christine gasped in surprise and wrapped her arms around his neck. When in the living room, Erik sat on a chair by the fireplace with Christine in his lap. Once he had them seated by the fire, he whispered her name, soothingly, "Christine."

She told herself to stop talking but for some reason the words refused to stop. She sobbed quietly as she continued her story. "Only he hadn't died in an accident. H-he was m-murdered. Mother Superior s-said." Another sob tore from Christine, wrenching Erik's heart as he planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. "She s-said that Papa had known, he-he knew that they were going to k-kill him, and he wanted to pro-protect me."

Erik felt like the lowest bastard that had ever walked the Earth. Guilt. It ate at his heart as he felt Christine weeping in his arms. She thought him her Angel while in truth he was a monster. He felt his own eyes becoming moist at the memories, things that Christine would never know, never. Erik would make sure of that. He murmured sweet nothings in her ear, his voice calming and soothing her, wrapping her in a peaceful, beautiful cocoon. Christine's weeping turned to shudders and then small whimpers.

"H-how can anyone kill another person? I just can't understand it," she whispered, her energy spent as she slumped against Erik, emotionally and physically exhausted. She relished the feel of his arms around her and the solidness of his chest. In that moment, he was her rock and strength.

Erik sighed, feeling more guilty than he had ever felt in his entire life.

"Life is not fair, Christine. Things happen that we cannot control or change. But life goes on and we must go on as well," Erik replied gently.

She sniffled and buried her face more snuggly in his shirt, by the crook of his neck. Erik could feel her warm breath on his neck. A moment of peaceful silence passed between them, the tension easing out of Christine completely. Erik sat there, cradling her in his arms as he watched the flames dance in the fireplace, throwing shadows across the room.

"Erik?"

"Hmm?"

Christine pushed herself away from his chest to be able to look at his face. He smoothed her hair, brushing a blond curl from her face.

"Thank you," she said softly.

Erik smiled slightly, his eyes glowing in the firelight. "You're welcome."

Christine felt curiously peaceful and free. Having finally spoken of those painful memories to someone, to Erik, was a blessing, she realized as she lay in Erik's arms.

A few moments passed and Christine found herself frowning. She had trusted Erik with everything. She had told him about her pain, her loneliness and about the circumstances of her father's death and yet, he didn't trust her enough to even show her his face. Biting her lower lip, Christine contemplated the matter for a few moments. Her curiosity and concern getting the best of her, she decided that now was the time to ask him.

"Erik," she said again, against the crook of his neck.

His hands were brushing her hair, moving over her arms and back in a gentle soothing way. Christine found herself wanting to remain in his arms forever.

"Yes, Angel," Erik replied calmly.

"I, um, I want to ask you something. I just don't want you to get angry," she said hesitantly and he could feel her tense a little in his arms.

Thinking of nothing but soothing her, Erik replied confidently, "Ask me anything, Angel."

A moment of silence passed as Christine contemplated the best way to broach the subject. There was no other way but a simple, direct question, she concluded.

"Why do you wear a mask?" she blurted out.

Erik's gentle ministrations on her back and arms stopped abruptly as he froze and she could feel his entire body tense. His eyes that were glowing before now blazed. Christine could feel the tension in the air around them. She silently wondered if she had made a mistake.

Erik firmly but gently moved her off his lap, setting her feet on the floor as he stood from the chair.

Bending down, so that his eyes were at her eye level, Erik spoke with deadly calm. "Pray that you never see behind the mask, Christine." Seeing the startled frightened look in her eyes, Erik sighed. Christine's wide eyes stared into Erik's – and in that moment, she saw a pain so deep that she ached for him. "You are far too beautiful, innocent and pure to see me."

He turned away from her and went straight to his room, leaving her looking after him, bewildered. What did he mean by that last statement? Christine wondered, her heart twisting at the pain she had seen in his eyes and heard in that beautiful, heavenly voice of his.

She clasped her hands before her and turned to the fire, watching the flames jump at each other. She didn't know what to do. She wanted to go after him, to apologize. She had hurt him somehow, only she didn't know why or how exactly. Yes, Christine decided, gathering all her courage. Erik was her Angel and he had helped her so much. Now she was going to try to return the favor. Tomorrow, she thought. Tomorrow she would prove to him that nothing could sway her from him. No matter the face, she knew the man and the Angel, and that was what was important.

With that thought in mind, Christine made her way to her room. When she had opened the door and adjusted the lighting, her gaze fell upon a beautiful red rose, tied with a black satin ribbon, placed on her white, fluffy pillow. Christine's eyes filled with tears. _Erik_… She walked toward the bed and reverently lifted the rose, bringing it to her face and inhaling its beautiful scent. Holding the rose to her heart, Christine sat on the bed. A strong, deep, frightening and yet beautiful emotion - a feeling she couldn't quite understand - filled her. Did she love Erik? She wondered.

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Erik stood by the open window in his room, staring out at the night sky. He silently berated himself for leaving her that rose in her room. Now it was too late to retrieve it. Why had he done such a foolish thing? Erik thought to himself. He of all people knew how hopeless the situation was. What was he trying to do, seduce Christine, in the middle of this whole mess?

So what if he deeply cared for her. So what if she stirred feelings inside of him, feelings that he was terrified to acknowledge. It was doomed. Whatever this was, anything between him and this Angel, this miracle that had been placed in his path, was impossible. Oh, how he yearned to hold her in his arms and never let go, to keep her with him forever. She was a light in his darkness, a hope in his despair.

_Christine_…his fleeting glimpse of heaven… Oh, but he would have the memories to cherish forever.

She had asked about the mask. Erik sighed. Removing it from his face with one swift move, Erik allowed the night breeze to caress his ravaged, deformed skin.

In that moment he didn't know if he should laugh or cry at the irony. She thought he was an Angel, while in truth he was a monster.

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Another fist met with Phillipe's jaw and blood sputtered out of his mouth. Phillipe breathed in the pain. Tied to a chair, he couldn't defend himself. He was completely and utterly at their mercy. He was covered with bruises.

"You know, Phillipe, I have always wanted to kill you. Not to worry though. Me and my comrades WILL kill you and your charming little brother. And not to forget that curvaceous, luscious fiancée of yours," the man laughed in perverted merriment.

"You son of a bitch," Phillipe spat out. "I will kill you."

"Don't make threats you know you can not carry out." Grabbing a handful of Phillipe's hair, he jerked Phillipe's head backwards. Phillipe gritted his teeth against the pain, feeling his neck on the verge of snapping.

"However," the man continued silkily, applying more pressure. "There might be a way to prevent such a tragedy from happening to the De Chagny family. Your brother and your beautiful fiancée could be spared, if you cooperate."

With a final jerk that twisted Phillipe's neck even further, he let go of Phillipe's hair. Phillipe tried to ease his strained neck that felt so stiff, the pain cutting through him. Taking a deep labored breath, Phillipe knew that this was a dead end situation. He had to cooperate with them. What other choice did he have?

After a moment, when he had caught his breath, he asked: "What is it you want?"

"The living corpse, that monster Erik, is searching for the traitor. And he will find him." The man smirked, moving away from the chair that held Phillipe and lighting a cigarette, before eyeing Phillipe again. "The traitor will be you."

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The next morning, Christine awoke to the sound of beautiful music. She was coming to believe that Erik liked to play in the morning. What a glorious way to wake up, she thought with a smile.

Today was the day. Today she would prove to him that no matter what he hid behind the mask he wore, she loved him. Loved him? The realization hit Christine full force, just like the rays of the sun that filled Christine's room, illuminating it with light.

Stretching on the bed, Christine slowly got up. She had slept in her dress. Brushing her hair, Christine emerged from her room and walked toward the music room. The music engulfed her and drowned her in its beauty.

Pushing the door of the music room open, Christine stood for a moment staring at Erik, at how absorbed by the music he was, as if his soul was bound to the music.

Taking a deep breath, Christine approached. She had to be strong; she had to prove to him that she didn't care about his face.

Standing behind him for a moment, Christine contemplated the wisdom of her decision. Perhaps she should tell him and ask him to remove the mask. Only somehow she knew that he never would. Her curiosity was eating at her as well. What better way to tell Erik that she loved him than to remove his mask and surprise him by kissing him and confessing her love. Yes, she thought, it would be perfect.

Christine stretched her soft hand to the side of his face. With one swift move, she removed the mask.

The music stopped and before she could blink, he had turned around enraged and shocked.

And God help her, nothing could have prepared her for that sight. Her eyes widened. She couldn't breathe or move. A scream formed in her throat.

Erik unmasked.


	11. Chapter 11

Christmas is here, woohoo!

And here is the new chapter.

Long Live Phantom!

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: "The Country Manor" Part Four**

_August 16, 1867_

_Dear Angel of Music,_

_Today the doctor said that there is nothing more to be done for Sister Monica. He said that now the rest was in God's hands. After the doctor left, we gathered around Sister Monica's bed and we all joined hands and said "The Lord's Prayer."_

_My Heart aches, Angel. I am so tired of losing those I love. But like Mother Superior said, "God's will be done."_

_I just feel so helpless and angry. Oh, please, Angel, I need you so much… I need you. Please come to me. _

_I won't lose hope - there is always hope. There has to be._

_Lovingly, _

_Christine Daee_

_x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x_

His face - Christine could hardly believe; she had never seen anything like that. His face looked like a skull; the skin appeared dead and stretched so thinly over his cheekbones and forehead that the bones and the veins were visible behind the translucent skin, and the bones were jabbing and poking against the skin. And his nose - his nose was almost nonexistent. It was as if she were looking at the face of a corpse.

"You little fool!" Erik snarled as he lunged at her.

The mask fell from her hand, colliding with a soft thump on the floor. The scream that had been forming in Christine's throat erupted as she tried to scamper away from him, horrified, only to trip and fall backwards, her dress spreading around her legs in chaotic folds of silk.

Erik loomed over her, an ugly sneer on his lips. As his hands moved toward her, Christine instinctively raised her arms before her face in a defensive posture as if she thought he was going to strike her. That action enraged Erik all the more and cut through him so deeply that he literally ached. He had been nothing but kind to her but now, after seeing his face, she had immediately assumed that he was a monster- as his face would seem to suggest - and that he was going to hit her.

"You stupid fool" he hissed, grabbing her arms and removing them from before her face "Look at me!" he roared, his face hovering a few inches from hers. "You wanted to see. Look!"

Christine cried out, trying to break free from his grip.

"I'm a handsome fellow, aren't I?" Erik said mockingly, bringing Christine's cold, trembling hands to his face as she continued to cry and struggle against his grip and her eyes, all the while, remained tightly shut. But the instant her hands touched his face and she felt the cold, dead skin beneath her fingers, her eyes snapped open in horror and another scream flew from her throat

Seeing the horror and the shock in her eyes brought Erik back to his senses and deflated his anger somewhat. He abruptly released her wrists and she fell back, hugging her knees and burying her face in her arms.

In the silence that followed, the only sounds that could be heard were Erik's labored breathing, Christine's weeping, and the ticking of the clock.

Erik bent down and picked up his mask, feeling a pain so keen and deep, like nothing he had experienced before. Why her horror hurt him more than anything else was beyond his comprehension. Had he come to care for her so deeply that her reaction mattered so much to him? He was a fool, Erik thought. He shouldn't have allowed himself to care for her.

Putting the mask back on, he watched the shudders that wracked Christine's shoulders and body for a moment, feeling a twinge of guilt and anger. She was huddled on the floor, weeping. Kneeling down on one knee, he brought his hand to her shoulder. The instant his fingers brushed her shoulder, she flinched away, her eyes flying upward to his, wide with shock and fear. Erik's hand fell at his side. He clenched his teeth, his temper escalating again. He had to get out, to think, to calm down.

"I'm going out for a while. Do not attempt to leave or escape. We both know how futile and foolish your running away would be, don't we?" he threatened in that calm, menacing voice of his.

Christine paled even more if that were possible. This was not the man she had come to know. Or had she ever known him? she wondered. There was no hint of any emotion in his eyes or demeanor, only cruelty and coldness. She shivered. Everything was still too much for her to comprehend. Everything had happened so quickly; it was still a haze in her mind.

Through tearful eyes, she watched blurrily as he stood from beside her and walked out of the room.

The door slammed shut.

Christine's heart missed a beat. Had he locked her in the house? She quickly scampered to her feet, her heart thrumming in her chest, and ran to the front door. She clasped the handle and turned it and the door opened. Christine's relief was so great that her knees almost buckled beneath her.

She closed the door just as quickly and slid down its length to the floor. Why hadn't he locked the door? More confusing than that, why hadn't he locked her in her room?

Erik had warned her not to try running away. He knew that his house was in the middle of nowhere. With nothing but wilderness surrounding her, it would probably take her hours to reach the nearest town, if she knew her way that was. Since she really wasn't sure where she was, she might get lost and die trying to find her way. Christine realized that he had locked her in much more effectively and more bindingly than if he had used a key.

Another whimper escaped her lips as she began wiping at her tear stained cheeks. She wouldn't cry any more, she promised herself. Only thinking about what had taken place a few minutes ago brought fresh tears to her eyes. Her heart constricted in her chest. Now that she could see things more clearly, her initial shock was beginning to fade away. She had had no right to remove Erik's mask. Her behavior had been appalling, Christine realized as a wave of guilt hit her. Not just removing Erik's mask, but her reaction to his face - everything had gone so horribly wrong.

Christine cringed when she remembered his face and when she remembered her reaction to it. She had been so foolish, she thought. How could she have hurt Erik like that when he had been nothing but kind and patient with her. How could she forget, in a moment of horror, that he had protected her with his own body against the bullets at the inn a few days before? How could she have forgotten the way he had held her just the day before, when she had wept for her father's death for the first time? Or when she had wept for the convent and the friends she had lost in the fire that night. Erik had been there for her and she had failed him.

Christine rose from the carpeted floor, softening the ruffles of her skirts with shaking hands. She would apologize to Erik when he returned.

Where had he gone? Christine wished she knew.

Walking back to her room, Christine stopped a few feet short. The door to Erik's room was left half way open. Erik had always kept the door to his room locked. _Curiosity_… Christine shook her head softly. No. This time she would not let her curiosity get the best of her. Determined, Christine opened the door of her room and entered. Her sight instantly fell on the beautiful red rose tied with the black satin ribbon which she had found in her room last night.

Christine walked toward her bed and held the rose to her heart. _Erik_… he had even given her her music back. _The Angel of Music_…Christine whispered.

For an instant, she could see his golden gaze on her, his eyes blazing with rage and shock, but most of all, pain. Christine held the rose closer to her heart as if by doing so, she could erase her previous foolishness.

_I'm so sorry_…she whispered…_Oh Erik, what have I done?_

Turning toward the open door of her room, Christine made to walk out and go to the music room where she would wait for Erik. When he came back, she could tell him how sorry she was, that she had no excuse and maybe, just maybe he would forgive her. She couldn't lose him, too. It was just too much for her heart to bear.

Stepping out of her room, Christine closed the door to her room behind her and turned to walk down the hall with the rose clutched firmly between her fingers as if it were a rare, priceless treasure.

Her sight fell again on the door of Erik's room, slightly ajar. And her legs of their own accord followed the path.

Clutching the red rose close to her heart, Christine walked toward the door of Erik's room. The clock on the wall ticked in the silence.

Tick, tock…another step closer…tick…Christine placed her hand on the wooden door and taking a deep breath, she pushed the door wide open, determinedly…tock…and the rose fell from her hand to the floor…tick… black drapes covered the windows, diminishing the light significantly. Christine's heart froze and her breathing stopped for a moment. There was a coffin in the room…tock… and there on the wall next to the coffin lay her father's violin. Christine would know that violin case anywhere…tick…black spots danced before her eyes and she could feel her knees weaken…tock…

_This is all just a nightmare_, Christine thought dazedly. She whirled around numbly and ran toward the front door. She had to get out of this place.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Erik was in the mood to do murder. He held Joseph Bouquet by his collar, and slammed him against the wall.

"I know that you're the one who has been giving out information," he sneered.

"I-it's not me, Sir, I swear," the man sputtered in fear.

Erik eyes blazed behind the mask.

"Do not lie to me."

Joseph continued struggling against Erik's iron grip. He placed both hands on Erik's wrist but that only caused Erik to tighten his hold. Soon, Joseph realized with rising terror he would be strangled with the collar of his own shirt.

"Where is Phillip?" Erik asked in deadly calm.

"They-they have him," Joseph gasped breathlessly. "I swear I had nothing to do with it!"

Erik, disgusted, let go of Joseph and watched as the man fell to the ground and then struggled to get back up on his feet.

"The only reason I haven't killed you yet," Erik smirked coldly, "is because I want you to carry a message to Lucienne."

Joseph swallowed in fear and nodded.

"You tell him that the living corpse is coming for him," Erik said chillingly. "And then…" Erik allowed his voice to trail off as he brought his gloved hand up to his throat and slowly moved his index finger across his neck, a ruthless half smile twisting his lips.

Joseph paled even more, his eyes bulging out of his skull in terror.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Christine ran through shrubs and bushes, dodging branches. Escape - that was the only thought that ran through her mind.

A twig snapped beneath her feet. She could feel the soft pelts of the rain on her face.

How could she have been so stupid? she wondered. The shimmer of tears almost blinded her. She was frigid; she felt cold and empty inside. She had stupidly believed him. Now she knew better. Erik had something to do with her father's death. What other explanation could there be for her father's violin to be there.

_Oh, God… Oh, God…_

She kept whispering breathlessly. She had to get to the nearest town. She had to find her own way. She had to be strong. She would survive this just as she had survived everything else in her life, Christine kept repeating those words to herself.

How long had she been running, Christine wasn't sure. She kept pushing herself forward. She was thirsty and hungry and her muscles ached from exertion. She had left the house in such a panic that she hadn't thought about taking any food or water with her.

Christine slowed down for a few moments. She had to get some rest, only for a few minutes she told herself. She didn't want to collapse. She wanted to get to the nearest town as soon as possible. Slowing down, she leaned against a tree, trying to catch her breath.

Drip, drip, drip, the rain increased. Christine was drenched from head to toe. Why did bad things have to happen always at once. Just that morning the sky was blue and yet now it was gray and dark.

Christine forced herself forward; she had to find shelter or spend the rest of the day under the rain, get pneumonia and die in these woods. Suddenly the idea of death didn't seem so bad to her. In that moment she would have given anything for that peace.

"Running away I see," his voice floated around her.

Christine froze in her tracks and her face drained of all color. He stood several feet away from her, tall, dark, and menacing.

"Erik," she breathed.

"I recall to have warned you against running away," he added silkily. "Perhaps I should resort to locking you in your room when I am out of the house. Would you like that, Christine?"

Christine gritted her teeth as anger, frustration, confusion and hurt surged through her. How could he have done this to her and now he was playing games with her! Christine was beyond outraged.

"I hate you!" she shouted angrily, her voice shaking with emotion. Rage took control of her sensible side and she didn't care anymore. "I saw my father's violin in your room. I don't care what you do. But I will not go back with you!"

Her hands turned to fists at her sides. She stood there facing him, brave and determined. The rain continued to fall. Her eyes were filled with hurt and rage and her breathing became more excruciating with every passing moment.

Erik observed her for a moment, silently admiring her courage. Then, without saying a word, and before Christine had time to react, Erik grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder, without hurting her. His arm wrapped around the back of her knees to steady her.

Christine gasped in shock.

"Put me down!" she squeaked, furious as she had never been before.

When he didn't make a move to let her go, Christine began hitting her fists against his back. He continued walking as if nothing was hitting him, as if he were carrying nothing.

"Put me down!" she cried

Erik dumped her unceremoniously atop Cesar and swung up in the saddle behind her, wrapping his arm around her waist.

"No!" she cried again. "I'm not going back! I'm not!"

Erik urged Cesar back toward his house. All the while Christine struggled against his grip. His arm was like an iron vice around her waist, unmovable and yet surprisingly gentle.

He didn't say a word or make any move as she continued to struggle, trying to pull herself away from him, trying to remove his arm from around her waist. He didn't seem to be paying her any attention, as if her struggles were nothing.

Looking up at him, Christine said in the strongest tone she could muster: "Did you not hear me. I'm not going back with you! Let me go!"

She twisted in the saddle putting both her hands against his chest and trying to push herself away from him.

"Stop that," he ordered coolly. "You are coming back with me," he stated in a factual tone, which rang with finality. "And once we're back at the house, we will discuss the matter of your father's violin."

"I do not want to discuss anything with you! Let me go!" Christine retorted angrily, her blue eyes stormy with anger and beginning to fill with tears.

Had the situation not been so serious, Erik would have found it somewhat humorous. And yet somewhere deep inside of him, he was relieved beyond words. She hadn't run away because she was afraid of his face. She had run away because of the discovery of her father's violin.

Christine had given him the most beautiful gift of all, the gift of hope, and the beauty of the light. And now, holding her in his arms, Erik realized something else, something very important. He would never let her go. He loved her.

And the rain continued to fall…


	12. Chapter 12

**And here's the new chapter of (Angels and Roses). This chapter is a fluffy chapter, entirely E/C. I loved writting it.**

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: (The Country Manor) Part Five**

_August17, 1867_

_Dear Angel of Music,_

_Today God worked a miracle for us. Sister Monica is getting better. We all gathered and said our prayers of thanks._

_I don't know what to say, Angel, but today I learned a very important lesson. Perhaps it is one that you were trying to teach me all along. I don't need to see you for you to be with me, just like I don't need to see God to know that He is there, with me, with all of us. _

_Oh, Angel, all those times I have begged you to come to me and you were always there! I was just too blind to see, for I was always looking with my eyes instead of my heart. But now I see, and I know that you are here, with me._

_I love you, Angel._

_Lovingly, _

_Christine Daee_

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Christine's teeth chattered. She was drenched from head to toe. Despite the fact that Erik's chest gave her some protection from the cold, Christine still couldn't stop shaking.

Christine was tired and with every passing moment the precariousness of her situation became clearer to her. Her anger was not in control anymore, as her heartbeats escalated. Fear and apprehension whispered deep in the regions of her mind. It was in those moments, when she was till struggling, wiggling, moving every now and then, still trying to break free from Erik despite her exhaustion, that Christine recognized that she was completely under his mercy. Oh, she could rage and rant as much as she wanted, but that wouldn't change the horrible truth, Christine realized, and her struggling against Erik ceased all together. He could do anything he wanted with her and she could do absolutely nothing to stop him.

Christine bit down hard on her lower lip, refusing to give voice to the sob that was gathering in her throat.

Thunder crashed in the sky as if it were raging against existence itself. The rain continued to fall in a downpour.

Soon the house appeared, looming in the darkness, a shadow in the darkness, now a prison to Christine.

Erik brought Cesar to a halt and dismounted. A moment later, he held Christine in his arms as he made his way to the door, ignoring Christine's gasp.

Opening the door, Erik put Christine down and turned the lights on. The warmth in the house engulfed her. For a moment she wasn't certain her aching legs would carry her. Christine leaned against the wall for support.

Erik emerged from the house for a few minutes to take care of Cesar.

The thunder crashed again, jolting Christine. She hugged herself, rubbing her hands against her arms, trying to get some warmth into her bones. Her teeth continued to chatter and she realized that she was dripping water all over the carpet. Well, it would serve Erik right to have to change the carpet, Christine thought, as a perverse sense of satisfaction washed over her.

The door slammed shut, bringing Christine out of her muddled thoughts.

Erik walked to the fireplace, disposed of the wood he was carrying, and then proceeded to light it. Christine noticed that Erik was drenched as well and that he was dripping all over his carpet without a care.

"Go to your room and change your clothes," his voice was firm yet gentle.

Christine gritted her teeth against her rising anger and frustration. A searing sense of hurt and betrayal cut through her like a knife.

"Do not order me around. I am not your slave!" she said angrily, her voice shaking.

As the flames blazed in the fireplace, Erik straightened and turned around to face Christine. The stern, fierce look in his eyes caused her to shrink back against the wall, despite herself, only to realize that she couldn't go any further. The wall stood behind her, unmoving and cold, just as Erik stood before her, several feet away.

She felt trapped and claustrophobic. Tears of despair burned her eyes but she had sworn not to cry and she would be damned if she fell apart in front of him. She would rather be dead, she thought fiercely to herself.

Erik watched her and a feeling of tenderness for her welled inside him. She looked like a trapped rabbit or deer. She was displaying such courage and he admired her for that. But before he extinguished her anger, before lacerating her fear, before explaining anything to her about her father's violin, he had to get her dried and warm. She could catch her death if she wasn't warmed soon, just the thought of that seemed unbearable to him.

"You will go into your room and get out of these wet clothes or I will remove your clothes for you."

Erik stood there, aloof and impersonal, waiting for her to make her decision and realizing that he too had to get out of his wet clothes.

Christine's eyes widened at his preposterous ultimatum and she gaped at him.

"You wouldn't!" she exclaimed, scandalized.

The side of his mouth tipped upward in what Christine could only interpret as a half smile.

"Do you really want to try me?" he asked silkily.

"I hate you," she said as calmly as she could and with as much conviction and loathing as she could inject into that statement.

Erik sighed. He could see the tears shimmering in her eyes, the fear, hurt and betrayal drawn all over her face.

Christine pushed herself away from the wall, every muscle and limb in her body screaming in pain and exhaustion. A whimper escaped her before she could stop it as her slow steps to her room wavered a little, only to regain her footing. She refused to faint or fall, that was out of the question.

Shaking and trembling, Christine valiantly took another step toward her room. Her body twisted in agony with the effort of every step she took. Her drenched dress weighed so much more; to her it felt as if she were carrying an extra hundred pounds.

Erik stood there watching her. After the third agonizing step she took, he couldn't bear it any longer. He could see what every movement was costing her. She was beyond exhausted and he could see how hard it was for her to move or walk.

With one swift move, he lifted her into his arms and she cried out softly in surprise.

"No!" she whimpered weakly, too exhausted to even speak anymore.

A tear rolled down her cheek, followed by another. She didn't wriggle in his arms or fight; she just lay there too exhausted and hurt to care anymore. All she could feel was the cold, the terrible cold, and the cutting pain in her body and soul.

"I didn't kill your father," he told her gently as he bent his head and kissed her forehead.

She wanted to speak but she couldn't. She vaguely heard what Erik had said as she tried to discern his words, too tired to even think. Her vision was blurred. She suspected that she was crying.

Erik gently, carefully placed her down, as if she were a precious treasure. Streams of tears were rolling down her cheeks. She wavered a little and Erik instantly steadied her, supporting her with his arms. Quickly he undid the laces of her dress, at the back; then he shoved the dress down her shoulders, freeing her arms. He pulled the dress down her waist and legs where he threw it on the floor.

Christine's chemise and garters were next. Christine made a little mewling sound in a desperate attempt to form a protest, which Erik ignored, as he swiftly removed all her remaining clothes.

Lifting the blanket which was on the bed, he draped it over her shoulders, effectively shielding her from his view and the cold. Erik then proceeded to rub the cover over her skin with his hands, drying her. She could feel his hands through the cover, on her back, up her spine, down her arms, over her breasts for a moment, over her stomach, down her thighs and legs. His touch was gentle and soft, causing tingles to rush through Christine's body.

When he had dried her, Erik left her side for a moment; he walked to the dresser and searched for a towel. The next instant, he was gently drying the long wet golden tresses of her hair.

Christine clutched the hem of the blanket firmly. She was vaguely aware that Erik helped her lay down on the bed again. A moment later, he was gone. His looming presence, his blurry masked faced disappeared from Christine's vision.

Dripping wet, Erik knew he couldn't dress Christine until he had dried himself first or he would get her all wet again.

Erik entered his room and quickly disposed of his wet clothes and mask. He dried his damp face, the ravaged, deformed skin. And then Erik dried his body. A few minutes later, Erik was dressed again, black pants and a white shirt. Erik wore another black mask, this one dry.

Bringing the towel to his hair, he rubbed his black hair for a moment, droplets of water flying every which way. Throwing the towel down on the bed, Erik walked back to Christine's room.

She was sitting up now and she looked more alert. Her trembling had decreased visibly. When he entered the room, she eyed him warily, her tearstained cheeks burning with embarrassment. Apparently, Erik thought wryly, she remembered that he had undressed and dried her.

Christine looked with no small amount of apprehension at Erik. He had changed as well, she realized.

"If you could please leave, I can dress by myself," she said nervously, fidgeting as she looked around the room.

Erik couldn't help but wonder if she were looking for a way to escape.

"You care barely stand up, Christine."

"Yes, I can!" she replied, her voice high pitched. Christine's heart slammed in her chest; the last thing she needed was for Erik to dress her. She attempted to stand up on her own, only her legs would not hold her. She would have fallen to the ground had Erik not moved swiftly to catch her.

"No, you can't," he replied tenderly, brushing a wet curl from her face.

Erik held her snuggled against him and she weakly tried to squirm away from him. He sat her on the bed again. Christine turned her face away from him, looking down at her lap, too many emotions coursing through her for her to even try to distinguish.

Getting down on one knee before her so that his eye level would almost be the same as hers, Erik slipped two fingers beneath her soft, quivering chin and raised her face, so that she was looking at him.

"I've already seen you without any clothes, Christine," he said trying to soothe her, which only caused her to blush more and look more nervous, so he added, "I will give you the clothes and turn my back and you can put them on. Would that make you feel better?"

She worried her lower lip for a moment before nodding in agreement.

"You're beautiful," he said softly, before rising and going to the dresser.

For a moment, he couldn't help but wonder what anyone who knew him would think, seeing him like this, trying to soothe a slip of a woman as he found what he was looking for. Love was most certainly making him daft and yet so gloriously alive, he thought dryly.

Moments later, he placed a nightgown on her bed. Erik turned his back to her, standing a few feet away. He could hear the sound of rustling.

Christine allowed the blanket to fall from her shoulders and then she raised the nightgown and with a bit of struggle was successful in slipping it on.

"I'm done," she said.

Christine stood there waiting as he turned around to look at her.

"Good," Erik replied and bent down to pick up the blanket and drape it over her shoulders again. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he led her out to the living room and sat her in a chair by the fireplace.

A few minutes later, Erik was pressing a cup of tea into her hands.

"Drink," he ordered as he sat himself in the chair opposite hers on the other side of the fireplace.

Christine took a sip of the hot tea, feeling it heating her insides.

"Why?" she asked a moment later, staring at the dancing flames in the fireplace instead of Erik. She didn't have the heart to look at him. And Erik knew what her unasked question was about.

"I didn't kill your father," that much wasn't a lie.

_I was sent to kill your father_. "The night your father died, I was passing by, on an errand" he winced inwardly. It seemed a very weak explanation but he couldn't as well tell her why he was passing by or that he had been sent to kill her father; he cared too much for her. Even though he wasn't lying about the fact that he hadn't killed her father, he couldn't tell her that he was a paid assassin.

Taking a deep breath, he continued, his gaze not leaving the flames: "I heard a gun shot, entered the house, found a man lying on the carpeted floor." _Someone had gotten to him before me and finished the job I was sent to do. Now I am grateful for that. _"I saw the violin by his side, on the floor" _and got enraged that someone had had the nerve to kill the man while he was playing the violin. Didn't they know that the violin was a very delicate and precious instrument? Yes, Christine, as appalling as you may think it, at that time, I cared so much more for a music instrument than I cared for human life. But then humanity had always been cruel to me, so I was cruel to it. Whereas music, music was my companion, my consolation, my last thread of sanity. _"I don't know why, but I couldn't resist. I picked up the violin and tried it." _I wanted to see if it was damaged or not. _"I played part of 'The Resurrection of Lazarus'." _Maybe a part of me was rebelling against what I had become, I don't know. _"Anyway," he continued, "when I was done, I realized that the man wasn't dead yet. He was breathing and he was looking at me. But he was too far gone. There was nothing I could do to save him." _Not that I wanted to do anything. At the time, I simply didn't care_. "He must have been hallucinating, or perhaps it was the effect of the music I played, but he thought me an angel." _Isn't that ironic, Christine? _

There was a bitter taste in Erik's mouth as he went on, "He grabbed my hand and begged me to promise to take care of you, to look after you. I didn't know what to do. I had never been faced with such a situation." _It must have been my damnable humanity which just refused to die, that caused me to agree. For the first time in my life I felt empathy for a human being as I looked into the anguish and despair in his eyes, while he pled with me. _"I couldn't refuse. I promised to take care of you and I took the violin," Erik trailed off.

Looking away from the flames, Erik gazed back at Christine. She was shaking again and her crystal tears were flowing down her cheek. Blended there with the look of grief in her eyes, there was peace, a sense of closure, as if Erik had just helped dissolve a big part of the web that had been suffocating her.

She wiped fiercely at her cheeks; the teacup was placed on the table by her side.

"D-do you know why they k-killed him?" she was pleading with him. She needed closure; she needed to know. "Who k-killed him?"

She had endured enough for one day, Erik thought; he was not going to burden her more. Not to mention, that soon, he would kill those who had killed her father, therefore effectively avenging her.

"I don't know." That wasn't really a lie, for Erik knew who gave the order but he didn't know which one of Lucienne's men had carried it out.

And before he realized what Christine was about to do, she threw herself into his arms, sobbing freely now. Erik sat her in his lap and held her closely, protectively. She was a treasure more precious then all the diamonds and gold of the world, to him.

"You had nothing to do with my father's death! Thank God, I knew you wouldn't- couldn't. You're not a murderer - you're my Angel!" Erik felt a stab in the heart when she told him that he wasn't a murderer, for he knew better.

Christine clung to him as if her life depended on it and Erik held her close in his arms, relishing her closeness and willingness to be close to him.

Christine felt relieved beyond words. Another heavy load had been removed from her shoulders. She really didn't know if she could have taken it had Erik had anything to do with her father's death. But now, she knew that he was innocent. Her papa had even asked him to take care of her. Erik was her Angel of Music, in every way. Christine's crying died down a few minutes later and she held him tighter, relishing his closeness and warmth and feeling utter safety and peace in his arms.

"I love you," she whispered against his chest, wholeheartedly, her voice raw with emotion.

Erik stiffened. No one had ever told him those words before and they cut right through to his soul. He had realized that he loved her but had never thought that she would ever be able to love him, especially after seeing his face. He could hardly believe it.

Christine pushed away from his chest, sitting straighter in his lap, so as to be able to look into his golden eyes.

"I love you," she repeated, softly, lovingly. She blushed as she shyly pressed her lips against his.

The last of Erik's control snapped. He held her tightly to him, devouring her mouth with his, his lips slanted hungrily over hers. They tasted each other as the kiss deepened and turned into several heartfelt, soul rendering kisses. She was his life, Erik realized, his everything, nothing else mattered to him but her. She was his miracle.

The kisses ended all too quickly. Erik's fingers lingered in her silken, damp hair, caressing her beautiful pink cheeks.

"I must be losing my mind," he whispered and she smiled. He brushed his lips against hers, bestowing upon her a tender butterfly kiss.

"I love you, too, Angel," his heavenly voice rang all around her, in reply.


	13. Chapter 13

Thanks guys for all the lovely reviews, they made up my day (hugs to all!).

And now after the wait, I present to you the new chapter of (Angels and Roses). I really enjoyed writting this chapter, it has a lot of Erik/Christine interaction and some Ned/Meg interaction.

Also I would like to give a big "thank you" to Karol, the one and only great beta!

Long Live Phantom!

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**Chapter Thirteen: (The Country Manor) Part Six**

_August 30, 1867_

_Dear Angel of Music,_

_Have you ever felt like everything is going right and that nothing can possibly go wrong? These days have been wonderful for me and Mary Catherine. Every morning, we go to Mass, then we have our lessons, and then we are free! We go berry picking and out on picnics. Also, just yesterday, Sister Luisa, Sister Martha, Mary Catherine and I went swimming in the lake. Oh, Angel, it was so wonderful! _

_Mary Catherine sometimes likes to go outside to draw. While she draws, I sit beneath my favorite tree and read. _

_Sister Monica has regained her health. And everything is going well. _

_It has been very peaceful. But sometimes, Angel, I wonder what's behind the convent walls. Is the world a really big and frightening place? Or is it as peaceful as it is in here? I don't know, Angel, but sometimes, I get this feeling, this horrible, chilling feeling, that my life will soon be changed irrevocably. I don't like to think about it. I don't know why I have this feeling of impending doom. It's probably nothing… For what could possibly happen? _

_Yours forever, my Angel,_

_Lovingly, Christine Daee_

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Erik watched Christine, cuddled in his arms, sleeping so peacefully. He didn't know how long he had been sitting there, watching his angel sleep so trustingly in his arms. If only she realized the carnal thoughts that were crossing his mind. Having her so close to him, Erik wanted nothing more than to lay her down on the rug in front of the fireplace and to ravish her, making her completely his. He wanted to explore her soft, beautiful womanly curves, to kiss every single inch of her body, to make her tremble in ecstasy. Erik smiled slightly - this was the sweetest torture he had ever endured.

Gently tracing her jaw and cheek with his index finger, Erik wondered if Christine even knew of the intimate relationship that happens between a man and a woman. He highly doubted that at the convent they would have told her about the particulars.

Brushing all thoughts of making love to Christine from his mind, Erik bent and kissed the tip of her pert nose. Christine mumbled something incoherent in her sleep, before snuggling even closer to him.

Erik knew he should carry her back to her room. He knew he should tuck her in and leave her to sleep, but he just couldn't make himself move. For the first time in his life, someone loved him. Christine loved him.

"Ah, Mon Ange, what am I to do with you?" he whispered. Christine sighed contentedly in her sleep.

Erik closed his eyes and leaned back into the chair, thinking about what he had to do. Now all his plans would have to change. For one thing, he could never leave Christine. His initial plan, after he had saved Christine from that fire in the convent, was to take her to Italy and leave her in her father's house there. The fact that Gustav owned a house in Italy was something that Christine didn't know. Erik had wanted to take her there and leave her with Madame Valarius who was now in Gustav's house, awaiting their arrival. He would have left a large amount of money with them, so that she and Christine would have been well provided for. And then he would have left and forgotten all about this angel.

But now, now after she had slowly inched her way into his heart and soul, he knew he could - would - never abandon her. More importantly, he didn't want to. He needed and wanted to be with her. He loved her.

On the other hand, Erik knew that he had to leave her if only for a little while. His life was in danger and he didn't want to expose Christine to that kind of danger or even risk the possibility that harm might come to her.

"Erik?" Christine said groggily.

He opened his eyes and looked down at his angel. She had woken up. She still looked tired and exhausted. The flames in the fireplace had started to die down, an indication that a long time had passed. The rain continued to fall outside in the darkness; its pitter- patter could be heard as it weaved its eerie rhythms.

"I'll take you to your room so you can sleep more comfortably."

With that, Erik stood up with Christine in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and shyly kissed his jaw before saying lightly, albeit sleepily, "At this rate, I will forget how to walk." A soft smile appeared on her lips and Erik couldn't help smiling a little himself.

"Then it will be my pleasure to carry you everywhere," he retorted.

Christine giggled softly, causing Erik's heart to soar.

"You're impossible," she stated shortly after, her eyes glittering with merriment.

They entered Christine's room and Erik laid her on the bed. He bent down and pulled the covers over her, gently tucking her in. He hesitated for a moment before placing a kiss on Christine's forehead. As Erik straightened and was about to turn to leave the room, Christine caught his wrist, tugging on his sleeve, effectively stopping him from retreating. Turning back, Erik looked down at her questioningly. He was taken aback when he saw that her eyes had taken on a worried look, something akin to fear instead of the joy that had been there, shining in her beautiful eyes only moments before.

"Erik," she whispered cautiously, throwing the open door of her room a look of fear before looking back up into his golden eyes. She rose on her elbows, the covers sliding marginally down her shoulders. "There's a coffin in your room!" she informed him frantically.

Having gone through the shock of seeing her father's violin, Christine had forgotten all about the coffin she had seen. Only now, she remembered it all too clearly and the memory chilled her to the bone. Why in the world would Erik have a coffin - such a horrible thing! - in his room?

Erik sat down beside her on the bed. He was confused for a moment by Christine's fear and then he realized how it must look to her. Not everyday did one see a coffin in a room.

"Yes," Erik replied cautiously, knowing that he must pick his words carefully. At the appalled look she shot him, Erik hastened to add, "I will remove it soon."

Christine gasped. He had admitted to actually having a coffin in his room! Grabbing his arm, her touch burned through the cloth of his white shirt. Did she even know of the jeopardy she was putting herself in? Erik thought as desire shot through his body. He wanted her. But when he looked into her confused and frightened eyes, he knew that she had no idea of the effect she had on him.

"Why do you have a coffin in your room?" she asked shrilly.

"It's all right, Christine - it's not important. I will get rid of it come morning," he assured her as he placed his hand over hers on his arm. A moment of silence passed between them, as the tension eased out of Christine.

"Oh, Erik," she said sadly. "It must be awful for you to go into your room and see that thing." The pain she felt for him shone in her eyes.

Erik couldn't help himself; he leaned toward her and kissed her forehead, allowing his lips to linger on her soft skin. She was like a breath of fresh air, a vision of heaven. The fact that she was actually concerned for him touched him in ways he couldn't describe. He then gently pushed her back down to the pillows.

"It is fine, Christine," he assured her. "Sleep now."

"Erik!" She grabbed his hand again, not allowing him to stand. He looked back at her, calmly waiting. Christine hesitated for a moment, before saying shyly, "You can sleep here." She averted her eyes from his.

"You want me to sleep here?" Erik asked quizzically, caressing her cheek as she lifted her eyes back to his.

"Well," she added quickly, "you could sleep on top of the covers."

Erik's eyes glowed with amusement. Far be it for him to refuse the lady a request! He put the lights out and removed his boots. He lay down beside Christine on the bed - above the covers, of course! - and crossed both arms beneath his head, closing his eyes as he silently waited for her to fall asleep.

The rain continued to fall with a pitter-patter outside. Every once in a while thunder would crash in the sky and Erik could feel Christine jump a little with every crash. But he resisted the urge to hold her close to him. He didn't want her to feel embarrassed or uncomfortable.

In the darkness, Christine watched Erik. It was eerie the way his eyes glowed in the darkness, she thought. And she wondered for a moment what had possessed her to ask Erik to stay. The truth was that she didn't want him to have to go into his room where that coffin was. It was too awful to think about. She also didn't want him to leave her. She didn't want to be alone. She felt safe when he was with her. She could just imagine the look on Mother Superior's face if she were to know about this. The thought caused Christine to smile, a bittersweet smile. Oh, how she missed them, the sisters in the convent.

"Do you intend to watch me all night?" Erik asked casually. Christine almost jumped out of her skin. She was sure that his eyes were closed because she didn't see them glow. So how did he know! Christine blushed to the roots of her hair. He knew that she had been staring at him.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, shyly.

"Go to sleep," Erik gently stated.

"Goodnight," she whispered.

"Goodnight, Angel," Erik whispered back.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

A spoon whizzed past Ned's head, missing him by a breath. The spoon was followed by a vase, which crashed into the wall behind Ned as he ducked.

"I saw you!" Meg shouted angrily, holding her plate and throwing it at him, causing him to duck again. "You will not keep me here! I refuse to be the victim of another murderer!"

She was shaking with rage and fear from head to toe. Meg chose to concentrate on her rage. She would be damned if she allowed another man to harm her. She would fight him to the death if need be.

"Calm down!"

The cup flew past Ned's shoulder and crashed on the door of the room. Meg was running out of things to throw at him.

"Meg, calm down," Ned repeated, annunciating every letter.

"I saw you," she repeated, looking frantically for something else to throw at him, to keep him away. "I saw you loading that gun!"

Ned groaned; he knew he should have been more careful. He should have never loaded his gun when he knew she might wake up and see him. This is what he got for being nice, Ned thought, as the tray flew at him and hit him square in the chest. The force of the impact caused Ned to stagger back a step as the tray fell with a loud thump to the floor. At that moment, he remembered Erik's words, _"No good deed goes unpunished"; _that was Erik's life motto. Ned had always disagreed with Erik on that, only now he was sorely tempted to admit that Erik had been right all along.

Meg was still looking frantically around searching for more things to throw at him. Ned took a deep breath. He had always been the diplomatic one; at least that's what Phillipe and Erik had called him. Now he would use that to his advantage; he would make this thin, pale, trembling woman understand once and for all that he wasn't a rapist and that he had no intention of harming her.

Meg's heart thumped loudly in her chest; it rang in her ears. She felt dizzy. She still hadn't recovered completely. She was glad that she was able to rise from the bed and eat her own breakfast now. But then she had discovered Ned cleaning and loading his gun and at that moment she knew that she was at the mercy of another criminal. She just lost it. Now here she stood, hyperventilating, looking frantically for anything to throw at him so she could escape. She didn't want his help and she wasn't going to be his victim. A cold sweat broke out all over her body and she took a moment to wipe her sweaty palms on her simple white night gown. She was afraid that after the exertion of a few moments earlier, she wouldn't be able to stand any longer. Her legs were shaking and a sob of hysteria was bubbling up in her throat.

Seeing that Meg was about to collapse, Ned took two swift steps and had Meg in his arms.

"No!" she screamed and kicked him just below his knee. The force of her kick was weak. Her voice had turned raw from shouting and her entire body trembled, from fear and exertion.

Ned lifted Meg in his arms and carried her to the bed. She screamed again, this time her voice weaker, her legs kicking in the air, as she struggled to break free. Ned placed her on the bed and took a deep breath. He would prove to her once and for all that he meant her no harm. It wasn't in him to be cruel but he knew that he had to do this in order to prove to her that he wouldn't ever hurt her. She needed to understand that. As soon as Ned released Meg on the bed, she tried to scramble away from him, to get up and run toward the door.

The next instant, Ned had grabbed her again. He lay down on the bed beside her and grabbed her flailing hand with one of his own. His green eyes met her shimmering black/blue ones.

This was a nightmare, Meg thought dimly. She was going numb all over. _Now he'll rape me, _a small voice kept repeating in her head, tormenting her. As Ned placed his other hand on her waist to keep her from moving away from him, she screamed again, "NO!"

Ned doubted that he would ever forget the agony he heard in her voice and saw in her eyes; it tore him to the core of his being.

"Look at me," he stated hoarsely, not being able to keep an edge from his voice. "Look at me," he said more firmly as she continued to struggle and sob.

"If I wanted to rape you, I could do it now," he said. "You can't stop me," and to prove his point, he pinned her legs beneath his, so now she was completely trapped.

Meg sobbed again, her struggle starting to wane, her strength failing. Ned removed his hand from her waist and gently cupped her soft chin, turning her face toward him. Streams of tears fell down across her cheeks, from her red-rimmed eyes. He gently wiped them with his thumb.

"If I wanted to harm you," he repeated softly, his face an inch away from hers, "don't you think that I've had plenty of opportunities to do so?"

She sobbed again as he continued to gently caress her cheek, his grip on her hands loosened and he gently started stroking her palms with his fingers, soothingly.

"I told you I will never harm you in any way. I am not a rapist. The gun is simply for self defense," his voice had gone hoarse again. No human being should suffer as this young woman had suffered. Her teary eyes locked to his, a wealth of pain shining in them. She looked deeply into his eyes, hesitating for a moment, before nodding.

"I'm s-sorry," she replied, her voice barely a whisper.

Ned moved away from her, knowing that she needed space. He sat straight on the bed, placing his arms on his knees and resting his head on his hands, running his fingers through his sable hair. He had a headache.

"I'm sorry if I scared you," he said sheepishly, looking back at her. She was still lying down on the bed, shaking. Tears were still running down her cheeks.

"I-it was m-my fault. I h-had no right to b-behave that w-way," she replied shakily.

Ned's eyes met hers again, before saying emphatically, "It's all right. I just want you to feel safe."

Meg nodded, more tears falling down her cheeks. Ned suspected those tears were long in coming. She had gone through hell and he admired her strength and courage.

"May I hold you?" he asked softly, startling himself and her. Ned had no idea where that had come from; he didn't care anymore. He had cared for this woman for days on end. He felt - he didn't know exactly what he felt, only that she made him feel, and deeply too. He just wanted and needed to hold her, to feel her close to him, to know that he could give her comfort.

Meg was startled by Ned's unexpected request, not that anybody before had asked her such a thing. What kind of man would ask a woman if he could hold her? A gentleman, a wonderful man, the man who had gently and patiently taken care of her all this time, _Ned Sinclair._ Meg blushed, eyeing him warily at first, then hesitantly nodding her acceptance of his request.

"Thank you," he whispered. He lay down beside her again and wrapped his arms around her protectively, placing her head on his shoulder. She placed both hands on his chest, clinging to him as she cried all her bitter tears, tears of pain and agony. She cried herheart out. It felt so good to be held by strong, reassuring arms, to know that she was safe and secure. When her tears were spent, she lay limp in his arms. Ned gently continued to rub her back, her arms and shoulders as his fingers lingered in her hair. She felt cleansed as if by crying all those tears, a great, suffocating, lethal load had been removed from her being.

"Thank you," she whispered in reply.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Christine frowned as she put the apple pie she had just made into the oven. She wondered if she had gotten the ingredients right. Well, she hoped that she had done it right, for she wanted Erik to like it.

Erik had been in the music room all morning. He seemed bent on finishing something. Christine could only assume it was one of his compositions. She removed the cover of the pot to make sure that she had boiled the potatoes properly. Mashed potatoes, with beef and beans, along with the apple pie, should make a good meal, she thought satisfied, as she proceeded to check on the beans that were being cooked.

The food smelled divine. Erik stopped drawing. All morning, after giving Christine her singing lesson, he had been bent on finishing drawing and outlining his plan to get Phillipe out. Now it was noon and Christine was preparing lunch. Just the thought made Erik's heart constrict in his chest. Life… these precious moments he was sharing with Christine, having a semblance of normalcy, it felt so good.

"Erik?" Christine peeked through the door. Erik turned to look at her, standing in a way to strategically keep Christine's view from the papers on which he had been drawing maps.

She opened the door fully and entered. She was wearing the dress that Erik had bought her, the creamy colored one with the red roses. She looked so beautiful that Erik's breath caught in his chest every time he looked at her.

"I have prepared something for us to eat," she told him, "and it is noontime." She trailed off, looking expectantly at him.

"Are you inviting me to lunch, Angel?" Erik asked.

Christine looked at him before replying confidently, "I guess I am." She paused for a heartbeat, before adding, "So will you come?"

Erik took her hand in his, watching as their fingers intertwined for a moment, before looking back at her. His face an inch away from hers, he replied huskily, "I told you I don't eat much," his lips were moving closer to hers. Christine's breath snagged, her lips slightly parted in anticipation.

"Please," she whispered beseechingly, her voice foreign to her own ears. Why was it that Erik could affect her so, that his nearness made her unable to think. It was love, she thought, and though it frightened her sometimes, it was a glorious and thrilling feeling.

"For you, Christine, anything," came his husky reply, before his lips met hers. Christine stood on her tiptoes, pressing herself closer to him and opening her mouth in innocent invitation. Erik accepted her beautiful offering as he deepened the kiss. Christine moaned softly. Erik wrapped his arm around her waist, gently crushing her to him. Christine buried her hands in his hair. When Erik cupped her hips with his hands and pressed her against his male hardness, Christine gasped in his mouth, stiffening for a moment in shock, as waves of pleasure coursed through her body that both frightened and excited her. She melted in his arms, moaning as he continued to plunder her mouth.

Erik was burning for her. He needed her like the air he breathed. He knew that he was losing control. He knew that he had to put an end to this, before he took her right there.

Moving his hands up to her waist, Erik loosened his grip on her, allowing her body to move away from his a little as their kisses came to a halt. Both Erik and Christine stared at each other, breathless. Christine looked dazed and she was blushing from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes. When Erik was sure that Christine could stand on her own, he removed his hands from her waist and moved away from her, his breath shallow and ragged. Christine was still staring breathless at him.

"I believe we have a lunch to devour," Erik said in as calm a voice as he could muster. She would be the death of him, Erik thought vaguely.

But there was one thing he knew for sure. Later that day, he would have to tell Christine of the decision he had reached. He was going to send her away, as had been his initial plan. He had to keep her safe. Later, when it was all over…if he were still alive… he would find her again…


	14. Chapter 14

Hope that you guys are having a wonderful weekend! And now here it is the new chapter, things start to pick up in this one.

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**Chapter Fourteen: (The Country Manor) Part Seven**

_Dear Angel of Music,_

_I had the most wonderful dream today. I dreamed of you again - only once more I couldn't see your face. I was back on the shore in Sweden and I was building my castle in the sand. I don't know if I have told you this before but when I was small, I always used to build castles on the shore and yet no matter how hard I tried, the waves would always sweep my castles away. _

_Only in my dream, I was back there on the shore, and you were there too, although I couldn't see you clearly. You protected my castle and did not allow the waves to destroy it._

_Then you put your hand out to me and I took it and we began to dance. Even so close to you, I could not see you clearly. You remained a shadow. But I felt so safe and loved. Oh, angel, what I wouldn't give to be able to go back there, to stay forever locked up in your embrace._

_I love you. Please send Papa and Mama my hugs and kisses._

_Lovingly,_

_Christine Daee_

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Erik?"

"Hmmm?"

Christine leaned back, completely melting into him, resting her head on his shoulder as her gaze continued to linger on the magnificent view before them. She was sitting between his legs, her back resting against his chest as they both watched the glorious sea. Erik sat with his back to a rock. The shore - Christine loved the shore. But much more than that, she loved the feel of being entrapped in Erik's arms It made her feel safe and peaceful.

After they had eaten lunch, Christine had sung to him one of the songs her papa used to sing for her, telling Erik that she believed it was time she moved on. After their short singing lesson, Christine had insisted that they come down to the shore, to watch the sea and the sunset.

"When I was little, we lived by the sea. I used to go down to the shore everyday, and play." A soft smile touched her lips as she continued. "Oh, you should have seen how many castles I built! Everyday I would build one and hope that it wouldn't be ruined by the crashing waves. But somehow the waves always managed to get to my castle and sweep it away into the sea."

She turned slightly in his arms so that she would be able to look him straight in the eye. She found him watching her intently. Before being able to stop herself, she brought her hand up and with her fingers, she traced his lips for a moment.

"Promise me that nothing will ruin this," she blurted out before she could stop herself.

She couldn't explain it but she was so afraid that this joy, peace and perfection she was living now with her angel would somehow end, that something would happen sooner or later to ruin it. And it frightened her to her core. Christine did not want to lose Erik. Her heart thrummed in her chest as she looked into Erik's fierce, passionate gaze.

Now was the time - Erik knew it was the time to tell her of his decision. But looking into her beautiful blue eyes, he thought he could wait a little while longer before breaking the news to her. What did she know of the world? Nothing. It wouldn't be bad for her to be in the world; she would enjoy it. She would be able to socialize and before long, she would have many suitors to choose from - eligible men, normal men. Erik cringed inwardly at the thought. No matter how much it hurt him to admit it, it was the truth. He was not normal - he was deformed. His life was one big nightmare. This dream that had happened to him, this fantasy he had been living these past few days, was not real, not really, and Erik knew that. For if Christine saw the world, was exposed to other men, charming men, good looking men, she would not give him the time of day. The thought hurt him more than he could say.

"Erik?" Christine asked frowning. Her heart leapt at the look in his eyes. For a moment Erik had seemed lost, as if afraid. His arms tightened around her. His gaze focused on her again.

Without saying a word, he bent down and began to nuzzle her ear. Christine sighed in pleasure as she turned more fully in his arms so that she was facing him. Her hands rested on his arms. She could feel his strength beneath her fingertips and it thrilled her. His mouth trailed a hot path down to her neck and Christine could feel an urgency to his touch as if it were the last time they would be together. He found her pulse at the base of her neck and his tongue drew circles at that spot. Christine's head fell back as she moaned softly. Oh, his tongue was doing glorious things to her! Christine thought vaguely.

Erik's hands moved restlessly up and down Christine's back, lingering inside the luscious, soft curls of her hair.

He began fumbling with the laces of her dress. Erik didn't think - he didn't want to think. Just the thought of losing her had him acting in a most impulsive manor. He was terrified of losing her; he couldn't lose her. He couldn't let her go. He knew he had to part from her for a while but then he would find her again and he would make her his completely. With her beauty, honesty and grace, many men would fight for her affections and Erik couldn't bear the thought of losing her to another man, to a perfect man, someone just like her.

The laces came undone beneath his fingers and Christine gasped, but before she could say anything, his mouth covered hers hungrily. She buried her fingers in his hair and moaned again, as his mouth continued its plunder. Then she felt his fingers on the bare skin of her back, flesh to flesh. His gentle touch scorched her skin and she was lost inside the waves of pleasure that seemed to lap all throughout her body, only to gather in her belly. She felt hot and wet and it frightened and thrilled her. She had never felt this way before. There was a foreign urgency building up inside of her; an urgency for Erik to touch her, only she didn't know how or why.

Erik knew he was losing himself; he knew he should stop but he couldn't bring himself to do so. The feel of her soft skin beneath his fingertips made him ache to touch her more. Before he could stop himself, he had lowered the dress down her shoulders, and below, until her breasts were exposed to his hungry gaze and touch. Christine gasped in shock, as their lips parted, and Erik allowed his gaze to wonder down to her beautiful breasts. It was then that Christine realized, as she felt the cool breeze tickle her bare skin, that her breasts had been uncovered. Christine flushed and tried to pull away from Erik. But before she could bring her arms up to cover herself and try to clear her haze filled thoughts, he cupped her breast with his hand. Christine gasped and moaned, her hands falling limply on Erik's shoulders, making fists in the fabric of his white shirt, as his fingers gently teased the rose tipped bud of her breast. She instinctively arched against him and moaned again.

"Erik," she gasped, panting for breath, as his fingers worked their magic on her. The pleasure she felt was intense; she had never thought something like this could feel so good.

"This is not right," she moaned softly, her fingers digging into his arms as she arched against him once more.

"It is right. I love you," he rasped, his need and passion obvious in his voice, before his mouth closed on her, where his fingers had been. Christine cried out Erik's name in ecstasy, digging her fingers into his shoulder blades and bringing him closer to her.

She was so beautiful… Erik's mind was so fogged by his need and passion, he could barely think. This was so different than anything he had ever experienced before. This was true, pure and beautiful. This was a union of bodies, hearts and souls. She was so beautiful, so soft. It had been far too long since he had last experienced the least kind of any physical intimacy or pleasure. All the emotions rolling through him conquered all his senses, his good judgment, and overwhelmed him.

He laid her down on the blanket he had placed earlier on the sand, when they had sat down to watch the sea. Erik continued to kiss her and tease her with his hands and tongue, but as he pulled away to remove his shirt, he looked down at her trembling flushed body. His gaze met her passion filled eyes, those beautiful, innocent eyes, and it was as if he had been punched by a fist in the gut. In that moment, he knew that although he could have her and she would not stop him for she was just as overwhelmed as he was, he could not take her, not like this, she deserved so much more.

His thoughts cleared. Stomping on his own needs, he bent down, kissed her softly on the lips, before helping her up into a sitting position and pulling her dress back up, to cover her from his eyes.

Christine's thoughts began to clear and all the dizzying feelings began to subside. She looked at Erik, who sat with his back to the rock, his knees upturned before him, his masked face buried in his hands, seemingly deep in thought. Christine hurriedly put her arms through the sleeves of her dress, dying of embarrassment. She moved her hands to her back, trying to tie the laces of her dress and realized that it was a futile attempt. She sat there silently before him, feeling confused, staring at her hands that had come to rest in her lap.

A few minutes later, when Erik had gotten himself completely under control, he dared look at her. She sat there looking so dejected, looking down at her lap. Erik bent toward her, raising her face so that she was looking at him. She could have slapped him. To Erik, it would have been more merciful, for when he looked at her beautiful azure eyes, he could see the tears shimmering there.

"Don't cry," Erik ordered, his voice still hoarse. "I'm sorry. I am an ass. I shouldn't have behaved that way."

Christine's lips quivered, before whispering, "Why didn't you want me?"

Erik was stunned speechless for a moment. _Not want her? He was dying of his want for her. _

"Damn it," Erik rasped, removing his hand from her face. He looked her straight in the eye and said, "I want you more than I can bear." There. He had made his confession, might as well blurt it all out. "But you would not have felt that it was right afterward. You would have regretted it. You deserve so much more. You're the one who told me that it wasn't right. Remember? And I agree, I want it to be right between us."

In that moment, Christine didn't think that she could have loved him more. He hadn't stopped because he didn't want her, but he had stopped for her sake. He had done it for her.

"Oh, Erik," she whispered loving. "I love you so much."

For a moment, she wanted to ask him to remove the mask so that she could touch his face. She wanted to assure him that she would not be afraid of his face, but she didn't want to spoil this perfect moment. Her eyes shining with love, she smiled at him as she rose to her feet and put her hand out for him, so that he would take it. Erik stared at her outstretched hand for a moment before his gaze met hers. She looked happy and his heart constricted at the love he saw shining in her eyes.

Confused, Erik took her hand and rose to his feet as well. She removed her hand from his and turned around giving him her back. Her hands swept beneath hair as she lifted her golden tresses up.

"Could you please lace up my dress?"

He cleared his throat and obliged her. When he had laced her dress, she turned around so she was facing him.

"Thank you," she smiled, and a moment of tenderness and honesty passed between them before she spoke again. "For everything."

And then, she curtsied before him, before putting out her hand for him again. "Would you do me the honor of accepting this dance?"

"I thought it was the man who was supposed to ask," Erik smirked and she laughed softly, her eyes glittering mischievously. "I suppose it is. But since we seem to be breaking the rules today, we might as well break one more."

"I don't dance," he stated in a no-nonsense tone, trying to steer her away from the silly notion of dancing with him. _Dancing?_ Erik could hardly believe she was asking him this.

"Don't worry. I don't know how to dance either. We'll just improvise," she replied lightly as she grabbed his hand and brought it around her waist.

And they danced to the tunes of the crashing waves, blended with the humming of the soft breeze, the gentle rattling of the leaves and the chirping of the birds. They danced to the symphony of nature and the beating of their united hearts.

They danced in a world where dreams came true.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Phillipe stood before Lucienne, two big men flanking him on either side, making sure he didn't attempt to escape. His clothes were tattered and bloodied, his hair was disheveled, and his face was bruised and swollen.

"So you know what to do?" Lucienne asked calmly.

Phillipe nodded silently.

"I'm glad that we had this discussion," Lucienne said wickedly. "You are a wise man. I will enjoy working with you immensely."

Phillipe remained silent. He knew what he had to do. His brother's life and his fiancée's life depended on it. The two men escorted Phillipe outside, leaving him out in the middle of nowhere to find his way.

Lucienne watched as Phillipe was harshly escorted outside his study. Out of the shadows Joseph Bouquet emerged. "Master, that was brilliant if I may say so myself."

"Yes, yes," Lucienne said in a bored tone before looking at Joseph as if he were some silly bug. "Now, tell me once more. What was that monster's message to me?"

Joseph swallowed before replying, "He said that he was going to find you and kill you, my Lord."

Lucienne sat in his leather chair and threw his head back as he began to laugh and then he laughed harder. Joseph joined him fearing that if he didn't laugh, Lucienne would get mad. When Lucienne's laughter stopped abruptly, Joseph wasn't as quick to stop his own laughter.

"Shut up!" Lucienne snarled. Joseph visibly paled.

"That monster," Lucienne said angrily, as he lit his cigar. A moment of tension filled silence passed before he continued more calmly. "But I will have him soon."

Then, as if he had just remembered that Joseph was still standing there, Lucienne icily looked at him before hissing, "Get out of my sight, you useless fool!"

Joseph hurriedly scurried away from Lucienne's wrath.

Leaning back in his chair, Lucienne vowed, "I will kill you, you monster. And I will have Gustav's daughter." Then after a moment, Lucienne spoke her name, tasting its feel on his tongue, "Christine Daee." He laughed wickedly as he repeated her name once more. "Christine Daee. You do have a pretty name, my dear. I hope that you look as pretty, for I sure as hell don't want an ugly wife."

With that, he laughed again. Oh, everything was going exactly as he wanted. Gustav would be rolling in his grave. Soon he would have Erik, and he would have Christine. He couldn't wait…he absolutely couldn't wait… revenge was sweet…

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Ned read Erik's message again. They communicated with signs, therefore Ned was not worried that anyone would have read the message, for even if anyone had found it, they wouldn't understand it. Ned read over it once more before throwing it in the fireplace. It was time to move.

He looked at Meg, who was sleeping peacefully, and knew that he had to wake her. First though, he would pack her things. She was strong enough to travel now. Only once he met with Erik, he would ask him to send Meg away with Christine. Ned would be damned if he allowed Meg to go back to her mother, where their enemies could find her easily once more. No, he would not take that chance. He carried enough guilt around to last him several lifetimes, he would not add another count to his guilty conscience. He would take care of Meg. He would make sure that she was safe and well, away from harm.

Nothing would ever hurt her again, not as long as he could help it.

As he began to fill the small bag with all the items they would need, from clothing to personal items, Meg's voice tore him out of his thoughts.

"What are you doing?" she asked groggily, lifting herself up on her elbows to look at him.

"We are going to be leaving soon. So get up and change. Do what ever it is you women need to do, before we head out," Ned stated casually.

But Meg could sense the tension in him. Curiously watching him for a moment, she then edged toward the edge of the bed, putting her legs out so that her bare feet touched the floor and rose slowly from the bed. She stood before him in her nightgown. She didn't feel shy. He had seen her with far less; she even suspected that he had seen her naked when she had been feverish and he had been tending to her. He was her friend. And Meg trusted him with her life.

"Are you taking me back to mother?" she asked, a small feeling of disappointment blooming in her heart. She didn't know why but she wasn't looking forward to parting from him. She had come to care for him. He was the closest thing she had to a friend. And she didn't want to lose that. Somehow she felt distanced from her previous life and everything in it. Perhaps it was the hell she had been through and the shock of it. She wasn't sure nor did she want to think about the awful things. She missed her mother and she looked forward to seeing her again.

"No," Ned said as he closed the bag and placed it down on the floor before looking at her. His voice was firm and rang with sincerity. "I am taking you to a place where you can be safe. Your mother will follow you to your new destination soon. I will make sure of that."

Biting her lower lip, she debated with herself for a moment before asking hesitantly, "Will you be coming with me?"

"I will take you to safety," he said before adding quietly, "then I will leave."

Meg averted her gaze from his, trying not to think about him leaving her. She illogically felt angry with him. How dare he make her care for him, how dare he win her trust and then just simply walk out of her life? She wanted to shout at him but she controlled the urge to do so.

"Well, then," she said in as light a voice as she could muster. "I need to change now." She continued meaningfully, looking at the door before looking back at him.

Ned nodded and silently made his way to the door. He walked outside, closing it behind him. A lump rose in Meg's throat as she watched him leave and her vision blurred. It felt as if in that moment, in that act, he had not just effectively walked out of the room, but out of her life as well.

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Once back at the house, Erik knew he had to tell her of his decision, for he knew there was no way around it. What must be done must be done.

"Go to your room and pack your things. We are setting out tonight," he stated casually, as if it were the most normal thing.

Christine sensed that he was retreating away from her. She could feel his aloofness. Her mouth went dry as she asked quietly and with dread, "Where are we going?"

She had dreamed today that they could stay here, together forever. And now with one word, Erik seemed to be dashing her dreams and her hopes.

"To safety," he stated simply, before heading to his room, leaving her looking at him, nailed to the floor.

When she had regained her wits, Christine's blood was boiling. How dare he! How dare he push her away like this, so easily, as if nothing had happened between them! Oh, she was going to give him a piece of her mind. Christine marched after him, standing at the doorway of his room. Her hands on her waist, she looked at him. He was packing his few belongings.

"How dare you!" she fumed. Erik looked up at her, coolly. God, but she looked lovely when she was angry, he thought.

"How dare I what?" he asked calmly, authoritatively, as he straightened to his full height. Christine knew that he was trying to get his point through, that he was the one who made the decisions, which only made her angrier. She walked straight up to him, pointing her index finger at him and poking his chest, as if she were ready to pick a fight with him. Her eyes locked to his.

"How dare you think that you can just push me away like this!" she bit out, hurt and confused. How could he?

Erik gently grabbed her finger, brought it to his lips and kissed its tip lovingly, before replying gently, "Christine, we will only part for a little while. I am not pushing you away. But you can't stay with me. Not now."

Christine didn't look convinced as she tried fustily to move her hand away from his, but Erik wouldn't let go. He caressed her cheek and continued gently, "I can't concentrate when you're with me. I need to be focused. I need to know that you are safe, so that I can do what must be done."

Christine frowned at him, the hurt in her eyes subsiding only to be replaced by confusion: "And what is it that you must do, Erik?" she asked softly as their gazes locked again. A feeling of dread crawled up her spine but she continued bravely, her voice quivering slightly, "Don't you think that it is time you told me?"

_And the truth shall set you free_…


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen: (The Church)**

_September 1, 1867_

_Dear Angel of Music,_

_Today Mary Catherine tried to teach me to paint - and it was a disaster! By the time the lesson was over, Mary Catherine and I were both covered in paint, not to mention the beautiful floor of the library was drenched as well. We had to clean up the place and then each of us retreated to her room to take a long, warm bath. _

_Sister Monica scolded us and said that God had given each of us a certain gift -mine was my voice, Mary Catherine's was her painting. And she went on to say that practice makes perfect. I was glad that the lecture didn't last long, but I guess she is right._

_What would it be like to draw you, Angel? You know, the main reason I wanted Mary Catherine to teach me how to draw, was so that perhaps I would be able to draw you, when I see you in my dreams. Although you are just a shadow, and your features are always so blurry and obscured, I had hoped that perhaps I could imagine and make out your features from the little hints I have. Silly of me, isn't it?_

_Send my love to Papa and Mama. I love you, Angel._

_Lovingly_

_Christine Daee _

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

_And what is it that you must do, Erik? Don't you think that it is time you told me?_

Christine's words lingered in the air, saturating it with tension. Erik looked at her for a moment as her words sunk in. Only, he knew that he couldn't tell her, not now.

"It doesn't matter, Christine," he replied, trying to ease the tension between them. "Why don't you go and start packing, hmm? We have a long way to go."

With that answer, he turned and continued with his own packing. Christine stood there, arms crossed on her chest, her heart heavy. _He doesn't trust me_, Christine almost choked on the thought. It hurt. She stood for a moment, silently watching Erik's lithe movements, realizing that even his slightest movement was beautiful and graceful. She licked her lower lip, taking a deep breath, before confessing quietly.

"I know that I'm not brave," she whispered sadly, causing Erik to stop his chore. He turned back to look at her. Seeing her standing there before him, hugging herself and staring at him, she looked so fragile and beautiful. He wanted to take her into his arms and never let her go. Before he could say or do anything, she went on in that same quiet tone, "and I know that my presence hinders you." She trailed off, unable to say more, or look him in the eye any longer. Christine's lashes lowered and she gazed at the carpeted floor. Silence lingered between them as a tear slipped from the corner of her eye, making its way down her cheek, a drop of crystal rain.

Without saying a word, Erik grabbed her arms gently and brought her to his chest, holding her in his embrace. Her cheek was pressed to Erik's chest; she could feel its heat from beneath the softness of his white shirt as well as the beating of his heart. It was hard to admit that she really couldn't do anything but disturb Erik and get in his way. It was hard to admit that he didn't need her.

"You are the bravest person I have ever met," Erik said gently, holding her closer. She could feel his beautiful voice reverberating in his chest as he spoke the words that shocked her.

"You're just saying that to make me feel better," Christine whispered against his heart. "I'm not brave. You are. I'm just one silly foolish girl with dreams in her head."

Erik lovingly caressed her cheek and lifted her face so that she was looking at him now.

"Being brave, Christine, is not to lack fear, but it is doing the right thing despite the fear," he replied, his fingers lingering in her golden tresses. "And I have seen courage in you that would surpass that of many men."

She stood there locked in his embrace, her gaze lingering on his. And to her utter amazement, she knew that Erik meant every word. She heard it in his voice, saw it in his eyes. He was sincere. But before she had time to reply, Erik continued with that magnificent voice of his. "And you are not in my way, Christine. Your presence does not hinder me." Grabbing both her hands, he brought them up to his lips, placing a chaste kiss on her silken skin. He continued, his gaze never leaving hers. "Your presence saves me and brings me to life."

"Oh," Christine whispered, so moved, hardly able to believe what Erik was saying to her. Another crystal tear slipped from her eye, trailing down her cheek, only to fall and shatter into a million pieces on the floor. "Then - then why won't you tell me what is going on? Why do you want to send me away?"

Erik's reply was simple and haunting. "Because I love you."

He released Christine's hands from his.

Christine was shaken to her core. Although Erik's reply had left her more confused and brought about a new set of questions, the haunted look that entered Erik's eyes rendered her speechless of inquiring any more. She licked her lips, deciding to let it go for now, sensing that Erik was not going to tell her more, at least not now.

"I trust you, Erik," she replied, resting both her hands on his chest, feeling the soft linen of Erik's white shirt beneath her fingers. "I just want you to promise me one thing." She made little fists in his shirt, as if holding on to him, afraid to ever let go. "Promise me that you will come back to me, that this separation will just be temporary and that we will be together again very soon." Her voice was filled with hope and despair, her eyes filled with determination as she added vehemently, "I won't lose you. I won't!" A moment of silence passed before she added more calmly, wholeheartedly, "I love you."

Erik placed his hands on top of hers, releasing her grip on his shirt, a small smile on his thin lips. He held her hands in his again, gently stroking her palms with his fingers. He bent down and she could feel his warm breath on her skin. With his lips barely an inch away from her ear, he whispered huskily, "I promise I will come for you, soon. We will be together."

With that, he withdrew his hands from hers and stepped back. His eyes never left hers, as he brought both his hands forward, still smiling slightly. With one swift move, he had a red rose tied with a black ribbon in his hand. It seemed to Christine as if the red rose had appeared out of nowhere. She gasped, placing a hand on her heart. Surprise flitted through her face, her gaze filled with awe.

"Oh, Erik! How did you do that?" she asked, fascinated, as she reached out to his extended hand, accepting his offering. She took the beautiful rose from his grip, her fingertips brushing his.

"It's a secret," he replied lightly. Christine held the red rose up to her face, feeling its soft petals on her skin, smelling its beautiful scent. Erik watched her for a moment before adding, "Now, go and get your things, Angel."

His last statement snapped Christine back to reality and the fact that they were leaving this little piece of heaven, this beautiful haven-home that she had come to love. She didn't want to leave but she trusted Erik and knew that there was no other way. Christine excused herself, making her way back to her room, all the while holding the red rose to her chest. In her heart she prayed. She prayed for herself and she prayed for Erik.

She convinced herself that if she ignored the nagging suspicions, they would vanish. There was nothing dark or sinister about Erik. _Well,_ she thought correcting herself, there was a bit of a dark aura about Erik, but nothing sinister. _Even the coffin wasn't in his room anymore._ Christine trusted Erik and she knew that if he didn't tell her all the truth now, he would later. Or perhaps, there was the possibility that she would never know. But most importantly, Christine knew the greatest truth of all, for no matter what, she would always love Erik.

Her heart beating in her chest, Christine entered her room. She sat before her vanity table, placing the red rose on its surface beside her brush, which she then picked up to begin brushing her hair before starting to braid it. It would be a lot easier to travel with her hair pulled back, out of her face. After finishing the braid, she rose and walked to her dresser, removing her few belongings and placing them in the small bag that Erik had gotten for her. After packing everything she needed, she placed her father's box on top of her clothing and necessities and closed the small bag. She then retrieved the red rose from the vanity table.

Standing in her room one last time, Christine took a deep breath as she looked around. She walked to the window and looked at the magnificent view of the sea, watching for a moment as the waves crashed against the shore, longing and sadness shining in her eyes. She had not yet left this place and she was already missing it. Christine sighed sadly.

Silently she reminded herself that her separation from Erik would only be temporary, but the thought didn't have the effect she had hoped. She felt afraid. She really didn't want to go. She wanted to run back to Erik and tell him that she didn't want to leave, that she wanted to stay with him. She wanted to tell him that she didn't care for the danger, that she didn't care for what he had to do. She only wanted to be in his arms. She wanted to scream at him, vent her frustration with herself and him, to vent her frustration at fate. Why did these things keep happening to her? It was so unfair.

"Are you ready?" came Erik's soothing voice from behind her, causing her to whirl around in surprise, the bag almost falling from her hand.

"Yes, yes. I'm ready," Christine replied as lightly as she could. Gathering all her strength, she straightened her shoulders and looked at Erik calmly. Erik took the bag from her hand and led her out to the hallway. As they made their way through the living room, Christine was fighting hard against the rising lump in her throat and the burning tears that were gathering in her eyes. _No, I've cried enough,_ Christine thought willfully; she was not going to cry again. She could do this, just as Erik was doing it. He was calm and composed and she would be, too. She walked beside him, every step another stab in her heart.

When they were outside, Erik tied their bags to the side of the saddle. Then he turned and lifted Christine up into the saddle before mounting behind her. In his usual manner, he wrapped one arm around her waist, while holding the reins with his other hand. The sound of the waves, and the breeze as it made its way through the trees, lingered all around them. The soft rattling of the leaves and the chirping of the birds completed the harmony. Erik did not utter a word, for in truth, he did not know what to say. This was harder than he had expected. He knew he had to send her away, just for a while. But his heart ached with the knowledge. _Love was a bitch_, Erik thought with a rising surge of irrational anger, as he dug his heels into Cesar's sides. He wouldn't be hurting like this if he hadn't allowed himself to fall in love.

But looking at Christine sitting in his lap so resignedly, enwrapped in his arms, he knew he wouldn't trade those few days he had shared with her for the world. _No,_ Erik took it back, _love was the most beautiful thing in this world_.

Christine sat resignedly in Erik's arms. Her body jerked against Erik's as Erik dug his heels into Cesar's sides causing the horse to start with a quick trot. She placed her head on Erik's shoulder, closing her eyes and inhaling his scent, memorizing the feel of his touch, the firmness of his body, the sound of his beating heart. He would always be with her, always…in her heart…in her mind…in her soul…

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Why are we stopping here?" Meg asked curiously. They were in the middle of nowhere, nothing but trees and forest on both sides, on an old unpaved road. Some thirty feet away stood an old church. It seemed to have been abandoned. The door was half open and broken, the building looked very old, about to crumble down at any minute. Meg also noticed that there was a carriage waiting for them along the path.

Ned dismounted his horse and helped Meg down. Once she had her footing, he let go of her and she smoothed the ruffles in the skirts of her dress, before looking back at the carriage, then Ned, in silent inquiry, waiting for his reply.

"You will be traveling in a carriage with Christine Daee," Ned clarified as he walked around the carriage to inspect it and make sure that everything was fine and in working order. The driver was sitting at the front. He didn't utter a word. Ned was glad that he had been able to get a good carriage on such short notice from Erik. The driver was one of their most trusted men. "They will be here soon," Ned continued while opening the door of the carriage to inspect it on the inside.

A cold breeze blew in the darkening sky. Night was beginning to fall, like a silken veil of black. Meg shuddered from the cold. Ned, having finished inspecting the carriage, saw Meg shiver. He walked instantly back to her and removed his cloak, handing it over to her.

"Here. You can have it," he said gently.

Meg hesitated, not taking it from him. "What about you? You will get cold."

Ned smiled and placed the cloak on her shoulders. "I'm not cold." He closed the cloak around her. "There," he said satisfied, as he gently rubbed her shoulders before letting go.

"Thank you," Meg replied softly. It was a barely audible whisper but Ned heard her. He was surprised to see the shimmer of tears shining in her eyes. Meg hated herself for not being able to control her emotions more firmly. Here she was about to start crying in front of him and beg him not to send her away. _You're pathetic, Marguerite Giry_, Meg thought silently, fiercely berating herself. He had helped her enough. Ned was not bound to her. She was not a part of his life, not really, no matter how much she wanted to think that she was. Meg bit her lower lip, willing herself not to cry. He was standing before her, silently watching her, which only managed to rattle her more. She wanted to shout at him.

"Would you stop looking at me?" she snapped, barely able to see him from the shimmer of tears in her eyes. And to her horror, a tear slipped out and rolled down her cheek, rapidly followed by another, then another. Her cheeks were wet and she hated herself for weeping in front of him.

"What is the matter?" Ned asked, taken aback by her reaction, worry lacing his voice and shining in his eyes. He brought a hand up to her face, gently catching a tear. "What is it? Meg, tell me."

"It's nothing, really," Meg replied, trying to smile through her tears and to stop her voice from quivering. "I just - " she looked at him for a moment before blurting out, "I will miss you."

Ned brought his arms around her and hugged her. It was so good to hold her in his arms.

"Ah, Meg," he sighed as he gently rested his chin atop her head. "How I wish things were different. How I wish that we had met under different circumstances." He trailed off, allowing the rest of his sentence to remain untold. In his heart he wished that there weren't so many obstacles between them, that he could stay with her…that perhaps they could heal each other and start anew, forget the nightmares, forget the past. But reality would not have it any other way. He had to let her go and the less emotional attachment between them, the better; that way it would be easier for her to forget all about him. He was surprised to realize how much he had come to care for her.

Meg wept in his arms, clinging to him, feeling stupid and foolish, and yet not being able to stop herself. She cared for him. Ned was her friend, her rock. She wanted to stay with him. When her sobs subsided, replaced with little hiccoughs, she pushed away from him, wanting to apologize for behaving so childishly. But before she could utter a word, or extract herself from Ned's arms, he spoke again, holding on to her.

"May I kiss you?" Ned asked, before he could stop himself or bite his tongue. He wanted to kick himself. Meg stiffened in his arms and he knew it had been a very rash move on his part. After everything she had been through, he wouldn't blame her if she went running the other way. Only Ned was surprised that Meg did not escape his arms. She stayed there looking at him.

Ned's request took Meg by complete surprise. Her initial response was to tell him 'no', but looking into his beautiful jade eyes, she realized that despite her fear and wariness, she wanted to take this small memento of this wonderful man, a beautiful memory to erase the bad. _A simple kiss, what could it hurt?_ Meg thought to herself. She stared at Ned, her heart slamming in her chest, before reluctantly nodding her agreement.

Ned caressed her cheek, surprised that she had accepted and not able to stop himself. His lips descended on hers as gentle as a feather's touch. He teased her lower lip, before pressing his lips more firmly to hers and slowly, ever so slowly, deepening the kiss. Meg could not believe how good it felt. She had expected to hate it but instead she was lost in all the sensations searing through her body. It was the single most beautiful experience of her life. She moaned, wrapping her arms around his neck and bringing herself closer to him…

"Oh, do forgive us for intruding," came Erik's icy voice interrupting Meg and Ned's kiss.

Startled, both Meg and Ned parted quickly, both flushed. Meg flinched a little when she looked up to see the masked man with his fierce eyes on top of his horse. She held on to Ned's hand and he could feel her fingers digging into his skin.

Christine awoke with a start. She had fallen asleep in Erik's arms. Erik's voice had awoken her.

"What?" she asked blearily, before her gaze focused. She straightened in Erik's arms, her gaze drifting from his to a few feet away where she saw Ned with a woman at his side standing on the ground beside a carriage. Christine had thought that she had been scared, but looking at that woman's posture, she could tell that the woman was terrified.

Erik dismounted the horse before helping Christine down. Then he turned to Ned.

"May I have a word with you," Erik asked Ned, more of an order than a request, his fierce glare never leaving Ned's. Ned sighed, before turning to the ladies who stood there quietly, watching: "If you will excuse us for a moment," Ned said politely, before motioning with his hand to his left and walking in that direction, leading the way so that he and Erik could have a bit of privacy. From several feet away they could still see Christine and Meg, but they were out of earshot, the women would not be able to hear their conversation. Erik had not expected to see Meg there. He had told Ned to take her back to her mother. Now Ned had a lot of explaining to do.

Christine's gaze drifted from the two men standing some feet away, partially veiled in the shadows, to the woman standing by her side. Her black hair looked familiar to Christine, and it was then that Christine realized who this woman was - it was Meg! Only now her face was not bruised, she had become well!

"Oh, my God!" Christine suddenly exclaimed, causing Meg to look at her in surprise.

"Do I know you?" Meg asked suspiciously.

"Yes," Christine said, before adding in clarification. "I mean, no," which only served to add to Meg's confusion, Christine realized with amusement. She wrinkled her nose, before smiling at Meg and saying, "I just confused you more, didn't I?"

"Indeed, you just did," Meg retorted lightly. It was nice talking to another female, Meg realized. It seemed as if an eternity had passed since she had last talked to another woman. It was refreshing. Christine was feeling the same.

Christine brought her hand forward as she introduced herself, "I am Christine Daee."

Meg shook Christine's hand. "Nice to meet you, Christine. I am Marguerite Giry. Call me Meg, all my friends do."

Christine hugged herself to ward off the chill, feeling an acute sense of achievement. She had been able to help save this woman, no matter how small her contribution had been. Christine felt a bit better now.

"So," Christine asked, trailing off, as her gaze drifted back to the men several feet away, before looking back at Meg and continuing her sentence. "Are you traveling with us as well?"

Meg nodded, pulling the cloak closer around herself as it was getting colder by the minute. She then leaned toward Christine and confided to her in a conspiratorial whisper, "I was afraid I would be traveling alone. I feel a lot better now, knowing I'll have a travel companion." Christine laughed good-naturedly before replying, "I had feared the same thing, too. Well, at least we'll never run out of words!" Both women chuckled lightly.

"I see you're off to a good start, ladies." Ned's voice interrupted their conversation. Both Meg and Christine looked at him and Erik. Meg flinched when her gaze met Erik's and she instinctively took a step back. Christine leaned toward Meg and told her in a loud whisper, which both Ned and Erik could hear, "Don't be frightened. Erik won't hurt you. He's really nice once you get to know him."

Erik frowned and glared at Christine. _He was not nice!_ He had been called many vile things during his life, _nice _wasn't and would never be one of them. He pressed his thin lips firmly closed, to stop himself from smiling. His angel was so innocent and beautiful, and he loved her for it. She smiled up at him, before her gaze fell on the old church behind.

"Ladies," Erik said as he motioned to the carriage.

Ned held the door open for them. Meg scurried toward the carriage, as if trying to escape Erik's presence, which seemed to rattle her.

"Go ahead," Erik urged Christine, his tone impersonal. He was trying to make this as painless as possible. Christine seemed to be pinned to the ground, her gaze never leaving his. "I want to talk to you," she stated firmly. She looked at the old, abandoned church for a second before looking back at Erik. She continued softly, "there, the church" and pointed toward it with her hand.

Meg stood for a moment at the door of the carriage, her gaze delving deeply into Ned's, silently begging him not to forget her.

"This is not farewell," she whispered. A moment of tense silence passed between them before Meg looked away and entered the carriage, silently taking a seat. Ned's gaze followed her as she entered the carriage and seated herself by the window. An ache filled his heart. In that moment, he realized with a clear and strong certainty that he didn't want to leave her. When all of this was over, he knew he would seek her out. "No," he replied, his voice low, husky and reassuring. "This is not farewell."

Meg's gaze met his, surprise etched on her beautiful features, before understanding his silent promise and she smiled brightly at him.

Christine entered the old, dilapidated church, not looking behind her to see if Erik was following. Inside, Christine saw the old pews, dusty and some broken and in need of repair. The windows needed cleaning and shining, some of the glass was broken as well. The only thing that wasn't broken and still in impeccable condition was the crucifix at the altar. Christine closed her eyes for a moment trying to focus, trying to get her raging emotions under control. She determinedly turned around to face Erik who stood at the entrance, leaning against the door frame, one leg bent in front of the other, his arms crossed against his chest, watching, waiting. Because he was tall, his form was blocking a good portion of the remaining light of the evening.

"Must I leave?" she asked, feeling stupid, not knowing what else to say. She made little fists in her hands, her fingernails digging into the tender flesh of her palms.

Erik straightened, concerned, seeing her rigid posture and the look of sheer desperation in her eyes. He walked toward her, stopping a few feet away. "I'm afraid you must," he replied, simply, truthfully and calmly.

Christine swallowed, knowing that this was it. She slowly raised her hands up to her neck. Erik watched her, fascinated by her soft, feminine movements and curious as to what she intended to do. She removed the gold chain with the crucifix that her father had given her from around her neck and silently held out her hand to his, offering him the necklace. Her gaze met his and she could see the shock in his eyes.

"Take it," she said softly, not trusting herself to speak another word without starting to cry.

Erik felt as if the breath had been knocked right out of him. He shook his head slightly, as he got over his initial shock. "I can't accept that, Christine. I know how much it means to you," he replied gently, lovingly. He took her outstretched open hand in his and closed it over the necklace as he added quietly, "It belongs to you."

Christine shook her head, determined and sincere. "Please," she whispered wholeheartedly. "Please, I want you to have it." She placed her other hand on top of his and turned his hand, so that her hand that held the necklace was on top of his now. She released the necklace into his palm and Erik was powerless to stop her. He didn't trust himself to speak. She spoke lovingly and softly, as she gently closed his fingers around it. "It will keep you safe."

"I will treasure it," he whispered, his fingers tightening around that precious golden necklace. "But," he added as he caressed her cheek with his other hand, "I will only agree to keep it until we meet again. Then I shall return it to you." The moonlight slanted through the broken glass, casting its magical, beautiful, soothing light into the old abandoned church, where two lovers stood in each others' arms. Erik's heavenly, angelic voice rang all around her, taking her breath away, as he vowed to find her again, and soon. "That's a promise."

Christine smiled as she tilted her head toward his hand, so that she could feel his soft caress on her cheek better. That was all she needed to hear, those words were the most beautiful she had ever listened to.

"I love you, Erik," she whispered, before launching herself into his arms, to feel his embrace, to listen to his heartbeat, before they parted. Erik held her to him so tightly and protectively, relishing the feel of her in his arms.

Out from the darkness, a white dove flew from the rafters of the church, and continued out one of the broken windows, like an omen in the silver moonlight… as if God himself were smiling upon them.


	16. Chapter 16

Sorry for the wait. Hope that you'll enjoy this chapter.

Hugs to all!

**Chapter Sixteen: (The Carriage)**

_September 3, 1867_

_Dear Angel of Music,_

_Today, I taught Mary Catherine how to plant a flower and care for it. I know it's been a long time since I've last talked about my roses. Now Mary Catherine has her own rose to care for. She told me that she liked it, and that she might start planting her own roses. _

_I am thinking of expanding my rose garden, Angel. What do you think? I am thinking about adding gardenias, tulips and violets. I think it will be beautiful and I'm so excited about it. I talked to Mother Superior and she has agreed. Sister Monica will get me the seeds. So now there will not only be red and white roses in my small garden but other flowers as well! _

_Oh, Angel, please send my love to my parents and please bless my roses and me. I love you, Angel._

_Lovingly,_

_Christine Daee._

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Faint rays of light…Christine opened her eyes to see the first rays of the morning light slanting softly through the carriage windows. Meg was still asleep, reclining on the bench of the seat opposite where Christine was seated. Christine yawned and slowly sat up, realizing that she had dozed off for a few hours. Her sleep had been fitful and light. She didn't feel any peace or safety. A few strands of hair had gotten loose from her braid and she pushed them back from her face.

Christine rubbed her arms with her hands for a moment to ward off the chill, thinking that even in the warmth of the carriage she still felt cold. She suspected that her feelings had nothing to do with the weather. Christine closed her eyes and laid her head back against the headrest of the coach's seat, trying to shut out all of the thoughts that assaulted her mind. At least in her fitful sleep, she didn't have to think. But nothing worked, she couldn't even make herself escape all the doubts and fears that haunted her and sleep appeared to be a distant, unattainable cure.

As the moments ticked by, Christine opened her eyes again in frustration.

Christine took a deep breath to keep calm. She knew that if she didn't do something to busy herself she would go crazy. She leaned toward the window, resting her forehead against the smooth, cold glass. Silently she watched as the dark, dim universe was beginning to get encased in light. The night was being lifted away on the wings of the wind, and the day had begun to embrace the world in its arms. For a moment Christine hoped that her life would be like that; that this dark, tumultuous phase of her life would pass, to be replaced with peace and love, when she would be in Erik's arms again.

Christine's tired eyes lingered on the scenery outside, on every speck of light peeking through the darkness. She noticed with a start that the trees weren't as thick in this area. Fields…there were endless fields of green on either side of what seemed an old abandoned road that no one used anymore. Christine's eyes lingered on every shrub and bush, on every flower and every leaf fluttering by. A sparrow flew out of one tree, catching Christine's sight. She watched it as it landed on the branch of another nearby tree.

Christine sighed and watched as the vapor fogged up the glass, seemingly adding to the mist that was floating by outside, giving the universe a very serene and mystical appearance. If only her heaven with Erik had lasted, Christine thought. Then she shook herself, for she and Erik would be reunited, she was sure of it. Erik would never break a promise he had made to her.

And yet, deep inside the secret recesses of Christine's, heart she trembled. Deep in a place where another memory resided, and another type of hurt and loss existed, doubt and fear lingered as well. She had been so sure that her papa would never break a promise he had made to her. And yet, he had never come back, when he had promised that he would. She still remembered all the nights she had wept and prayed for her papa to return as she waited, clinging so desperately to hope. She had been but a small child, feeling so lost and alone.

And then that day had come, that day that Christine would never forget, when Mother Superior had had a talk with Christine in her office. Christine's mind had gone blank and her body numb, after the words "dead" and "your father" had passed the Mother's lips. Christine hadn't uttered a word, even when Mother Superior had hugged her in an attempt to comfort her. She had not shed a single tear. Dazed, she had walked out of Mother Superior's office and gone to her room. She had lain down on her small bed, folded her hands on her stomach and closed her eyes. Fervently, she had prayed that she would soon wake and find that everything had just been a dream - a very bad dream.

Only it hadn't been a bad dream…it had been real.

But Erik would come back to her, Christine thought vehemently, he had to…he had to…because she loved him more than she could ever put in words. And if anything should happen to him, her Erik, her angel, Christine didn't know if she would survive.

"Good morning."

The feminine voice jolted Christine out of her thoughts. She looked away from the window, at Meg, who had woken and was sitting up.

"Good morning," Christine replied with a slight smile.

Meg ran her fingers through her long, straight black hair, trying to brush it as best she could, before tying it back with a ribbon.

"So," Meg said groggily, her eyes gazing at the window where Christine had been looking, then back at Christine. "Anything interesting out there?" she asked with a hint of curiosity.

Christine frowned before replying lightly, "No, nothing. I was just bored."

Meg yawned, blinked several times to clear her vision, and tried to wake herself completely.

Everything was silent for a moment as the carriage jostled them on the uneven road. No sounds could be heard but the chirping of the birds and the soft humming of the breeze, along with the sound of the turning wheels of the carriage.

"How much longer do you suppose this trip is going to take?" Meg huffed in mild annoyance.

"I don't know," Christine replied, exasperated as well.

Meg smiled mischievously, leaning forward toward Christine, as if she were about to share a very important secret with her. "I tell you what," Meg said excitedly, causing Christine to lean forward as well, as she went on in a hushed tone of voice. "Once we reach," she waved her hand aimlessly and continued lightly, "wherever it is we are supposed to be going - " Christine laughed softly as Meg continued, "We'll go on a shopping spree. We'll spend all their money as pay back!"

Both leaned back in their seats as Christine laughed harder and Meg joined in.

_A shopping spree!_ Christine's heart leapt in excitement for she had never gone shopping before. Well, she did remember going out and buying food and a dress or two with her father. But going out to big stores, and spending an entire day shopping - that was something Christine had never done in her entire life. She had read about it in books, and she had wished that one day she would be able to do those things.

When their laughing had died down, Meg said wistfully, "I do miss civilization."

"You know, I've never gone shopping before," Christine admitted, a little embarrassed by the fact.

"Oh," Meg looked surprised and confused at that statement.

Christine quickly added in clarification, "I was raised in a convent. The sisters took care of me when I became an orphan. I was very young." Christine bit the inside of her cheek then released it as she continued with a half smile, "I haven't been outside the convent ever since." A pause, then she added, "Until now, that is."

An unspoken sadness lingered in the air.

Meg's gaze had a distant look to it as she said longingly, "I wish I had been raised in a convent. I would have been safe there." Somberly she continued, "Then perhaps none of what happened to me would have happened - " Meg cut herself off, realizing that she had said more than she intended to. Her gaze became focused again and she looked at Christine and tried to smile.

Christine wondered for a moment about what had happened to Meg. She still didn't know what Meg had suffered through. But since it seemed to Christine that Meg didn't really want to talk about it, she relented from asking her about the subject.

"Believe me, even a convent can be invaded, and your life can be turned upside down in an instant," Christine said faintly, her voice sad as well. "There is evil everywhere."

Meg's smile faltered. Christine realized that the conversation was taking a turn toward things that neither she nor Meg wished to discuss. Moments of tense silence ticked by as both refrained from saying anything more.

Desperately trying to ease the tension and to lighten the atmosphere again, Christine broke the silence and said cheerfully, "Well, I can't wait to get out of this carriage!"

Meg's expression brightened, thankful that the conversation had turned light. She opened her mouth to speak, when a shout from outside, and the sudden jolt of the stopping carriage, caught both Meg and Christine's attention. Both Meg and Christine scampered toward the window to look apprehensively outside, to see what had happened.

"It's a man!" Christine said in a whisper.

"And he's talking to the driver," Meg whispered back curiously.

"It seems like they know each other," Christine stated with a frown.

The door to the carriage was abruptly flung open. Both Meg and Christine squeaked and leaned back away from the window, embarrassed to be caught eavesdropping, and afraid that some sort of highwayman had stopped them.

A blond head peeked into the door, and a man with beautiful features and sky blue eyes that seemed oddly familiar to Christine, smiled at them and asked, "I hope that you don't mind putting up with me, ladies. I will just be traveling with you for a short distance. Then you'll be rid of me." He grinned as he added, "So may I join you?"

"Well," Meg started, clearly flustered and overwhelmed.

"Of course," Christine blurted out, not knowing what else to say. Besides, she had never turned down anyone in need. She also sensed that no matter what their answer, he was still going to join them.

He climbed in and sat himself beside Christine. He closed the door of the carriage and then called out to the driver, whom he referred to as "Armand" to get moving.

Christine was getting confused. Had Erik sent this man? Or did the driver just happen to know this man and decided to help him? Not able to keep quiet any longer, she said.

"If you will excuse me, Monsieur, but what brings you here?"

"I'm looking for my brother," he replied in all seriousness, a very urgent tone to his voice. A moment of silence passed between them, before the man realized with a start that he hadn't introduced himself. He held out his hand to Christine and said with a charming smile, "Oh, please, do excuse me, Mademoiselle. I forgot to introduce myself. I am Raoul De Chagny."

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Riding at a leisurely pace, Ned enquired, "So what now, Erik?"

"Paris is falling apart," Erik replied, and then went on, seemingly jumping to another subject completely. "Which will make killing Lucienne a lot easier. No one will have time to care about his death." Continuing in a calculating tone, Erik said, "I know that Phillipe will betray me soon. He has been captured by Lucienne and I know how that wretch operates." A pause, as the wind rustled through the leaves, "I am surrounded by enemies who would like nothing more than to kill me, and you."

A moment of silence passed before Erik mused aloud, watching the bright rays of the morning light, "You know, Ned, you should have steered clear away from me, when we met in the dungeon. Your life would have been a lot easier."

Ned was getting more worried by the minute. He waited for Erik to continue but Erik didn't. So Ned spoke. "And?" he said. "What do you plan - or more precisely what do we plan to do about it?"

"About what?"

"About Lucienne!" Ned exclaimed, exasperated.

Erik smirked, amused. "We will give Lucienne exactly what he wants," he said chillingly. "I want him to think that he has won. And then," Erik trailed off, leaving his cryptic words hanging in the air as he dug his heels into Caesar's flanks, increasing the horse's gait to a fast trot.

Ned dug his heels into his horse's flanks and followed. Erik's words didn't sit well with him. Whatever it was that Erik was up to, Ned knew he wasn't going to like it. But then Ned had never liked any of Erik's plans. Just remembering the old days chilled him to the bone and Ned had no intention of going there again…

_Christine_…Erik couldn't get her out of his mind. He knew that he needed to concentrate, but there was only Christine filling his thoughts…_Christine smiling…Christine crying and clinging to him…Christine sleeping in his arms…Christine sweetly luring him to eat lunch with her…Christine dancing with him…Christine telling him that she loved him… Christine singing for him…Christine giving him her crucifix…Christine…_

Erik knew that if he were to survive he had to concentrate. He had to get Christine out of his mind, for her sake and his. He sighed. He had put Christine's crucifix in the pocket of his shirt, close to his heart. He felt a burning deep inside of him, for he already missed her so much. _She would never approve of this_, Erik thought. Christine would never approve of murder, and deceit. It was better this way, and Erik knew that. He was keeping her away, completely innocent and unknowing of this whole dirty business. And that was the way it would remain.

Silently Erik swore that he would come back for Christine, even if he had to crawl all the way. He would rather die at her feet than live without her…

But then with a deep ache in his heart, Erik wondered if Christine would ever agree to take him back, after she discovered his deception. For once Christine had opened her small bag, she would know that Erik had opened her father's box. And that it no longer contained everything it once held in its small confines… Erik had left her the key after all; Christine would realize that as well, Erik thought with a bit of hope. It would count for something, wouldn't it? Perhaps she would find it in her heart to forgive him later, when she understood.

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Phillipe stumbled, the world span around him. He suspected that he had a few broken ribs and he was shivering uncontrollably, which told him that he was probably also burning up with fever. He had to find a safe haven, a place to stay for a few days, to recuperate and heal. Then he had to think of a way to get his brother and Sorelli out. Or else he would have to betray Erik and then face his wrath later, which Phillipe was not looking forward to.

If only he could find a place to lie down, just to rest for a bit, Phillipe thought deliriously. His vision was already blurring; he knew that he would soon pass out and freeze to death if he didn't find a place to rest.

And then he saw it, an old, abandoned church. Phillipe stumbled toward that half broken door and passed out just in front of the door. The last thought to cross his mind was the knowledge that no one would find him there, that he was going to die, leaving Raoul and Sorelli. He had to save them…he had to…and then darkness…

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"Have the men ready," Erik told Ned as he dismounted his horse in the middle of a clearing. They were in the outskirts of Paris now.

"I have the map," Erik continued in a business like tone. "You will know exactly where Lucienne's hide out is."

Of its own accord, his hand reached for the crucifix in his pocket and Erik closed his eyes for a second, thinking of Christine for one last time. His hand fell limp to his side again as he turned to be faced with a very confused Ned.

"What are you talking about?" Ned inquired worriedly.

Erik removed his cloak and placed it in his saddlebag, removing the map that he had taken from the box that Gustav had left for his daughter. Then Erik walked around to stand in front of Ceasar for a moment, and gently patted the horse between the eyes. Ceasar snorted in satisfaction and buried his nose in Erik's shoulder.

Silently watching, Ned was getting more and more concerned; Erik was acting as if this were goodbye. Continuing to pat Ceasar affectionately, Erik said calmly, "Take care of Ceasar while I'm gone." Steely voiced, he added, "I want no harm to come to him. Is that clear?"

Ned frowned and ran his hands through his brown hair, trying desperately to follow Erik but not understanding anything.

"Erik, would you please start from the beginning?"

Walking away from Ceasar, Erik turned to face Ned. Looking him straight in the eye, Erik said chillingly, "Lucienne expects Phillipe to betray me but I won't wait for that bastard's bait." Erik held out the map for Ned to take. With a frown Ned took the map and opened it, examining it curiously.

Erik went on firmly, "You are going to win Lucienne's trust and become one of his men."

Ned's jaw dropped, as his gaze shot up from the map to meet Erik's blazing eyes.

"What?" Ned bit out, astonished.

Erik rolled his sleeves up, as if he were getting ready for a fight, as he continued coolly, in that deadly tone, completely ignoring Ned's outburst, "You are going to give me up to Lucienne. That should score you a lot of points."

"Erik, are you insane? Have you lost your mind completely?" Ned asked in shock, as he tried to argue logically. "If I give you up to Lucienne, who's to say that he won't kill you on the spot!"

"You," Erik replied calmly, too calmly.

Ned sighed and said reasonably, "Erik how am I to do that? How can I stop Lucienne from killing you, when I will be the one who supposedly betrayed you!"

"Because you will tell Lucienne that I have what he wants. He will not kill me before he gets that information," Erik replied patiently. Bending down, he removed a dagger from his boot. With one swift, expert motion, Erik flipped it around, so that he was holding the blade toward himself and the handle of the knife was held out toward Ned. Erik held out the knife, waiting for Ned, who had turned pale, to take it.

When Ned had finally taken the dagger from Erik's hand, Erik smiled, a half smile, a deadly chilling smile, and said, "Do you remember the charming old days, Ned?" There was a hint of bitterness in Erik's voice, and dark amusement.

Ned swallowed and nodded, not liking where this was headed at all, for he knew what Erik was going to ask of him next. Ned shuddered at the thought. Although he had to grudgingly admit that Erik's plan was nothing short of brilliant, despite its brutality.

"Good." Erik tilted his head to the side and went on, "There is one more thing we have to do so that you can convincingly give me up to Lucienne without him suspecting you."

Ned couldn't breathe as he waited for Erik's next words.

Erik closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed; this wasn't a time for him to feel, but an image of Christine flashed before his eyes, with her golden hair and beautiful azure eyes, smiling lovingly at him, and Erik's cold heart stumbled and ached for her. He would make it back to her. Nothing would keep her away from him… Nothing would keep him away from her.

_I love you, Christine…_

Erik opened his eyes with more determination. He smiled morbidly at Ned as he spoke chillingly, "You are going to have to stab me."


	17. Chapter 17

**Here is the new chapter, I hope that you'll enjoy! Long Live Phantom! **

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen: "The De Chagny Estate" Part One**

_September 10, 1867_

_Dear Angel of Music,_

_Today I'm going with Sister Monica outside the convent walls! We are going downtown to buy some things that the convent needs. I am so excited - it's been so long since I've gone to any shop. _

_Oh, Angel, I don't know what to wear! All my clothes are old and simple. The sisters say that one should not waste time on vanity. But, well, I just want to look my best for this momentous occasion. _

_Look at me - calling a shopping trip a momentous occasion! I am sure that you must be laughing at me. And I am sorry for putting so much importance on going out. But oh, Angel, though I love it here, surely you must know how much I miss town, if only a little bit. _

_I love you, Angel, please be with me and Sister Monica as we go. Protect us and help us to have a safe journey. _

_Lovingly,_

_Christine Daee_

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"There has got to be another way."

Deep in thought, Ned paced before Erik. In one hand, he was clutching the dagger and in the other, he had the map.

"There is no other way," Erik snapped impatiently.

Ned stopped pacing and turned to face Erik, his anger barely contained. Waving the hand that contained the map, Ned shouted, "Damn you, Erik! There has to be another way. I will not stab you! I refuse to return to the horror of the past!"

Erik was silent for a moment as he looked as Ned, whose breathing slowed down as he lowered his hand. Before Erik could say anything, Ned said thoughtfully, "Perhaps we could find out where his hideout is together. Then we could sneak in and you could kill him. No one would even notice." Ned smiled slightly, pleased with himself as he continued reasonably, "You are a master at getting in and out of heavily guarded places. It wouldn't be that hard for you."

Erik smirked as he replied in a lethally calm voice, "Do you really think that I could get past one – or possibly two hundred guards? Or perhaps even more?" Erik placed his right hand on his chest as if he were really touched and looked mockingly at Ned and continued sarcastically, "I am really flattered by your faith and trust in my abilities but I am not infallible."

Ned paled. Erik's hand dropped from his chest. His eyes turned deadly serious as he continued in that same calm, calculating voice, "You have to stab me. It is the only way to ensure getting in and close enough to Lucienne to kill him." A moment of silence passed between them as the breeze blew through the trees. Erik went on matter-of-factly, "And if I for any reason should fail to accomplish his death, then the honor shall be yours."

Ned started to shake his head, his lips parted to reply, but Erik cut off Ned's retort by saying firmly and knowingly, "It is the only way, and you know it, as well as I."

Ned looked down at the dagger in his hand. His heart missed a beat. Oh, how he hated it when Erik was right.

"All right," Ned almost choked on his agreement. Looking back at Erik, he said firmly, "But first we go and check out Lucienne's hideout. You might bleed to death."

Erik looked at Ned knowingly. The tension in the air was almost palpable. Erik spoke again, "I already know where his hideout is." Running his hands through his hair, Erik took a deep, cleansing breath, while he continued nonchalantly, as if it were just a mundane thing he was discussing. "Don't worry, Ned. The wound you will give me will only be a flesh wound. A flesh wound appears to be deep and lethal, when in fact it isn't. I won't die from it. But Lucienne will be deceived into believing that you have given me a lethal wound."

Ned exhaled in relief. Perhaps things weren't as bad as they appeared to be, he decided.

"Before I forget," Erik's voice cut through Ned's thoughts. Ned looked back at Erik, who had removed something from his pocket, which glittered in the sun. Erik's hand trembled slightly as his fist closed protectively over Christine's crucifix. He was loath to give it to Ned for safekeeping, but at the same time Erik knew that there was no other way. He couldn't keep it with him, not now.

Regaining his composure, Erik opened his hand. As his fingers unfolded from the object, Ned saw that it was a beautiful gold crucifix. Erik held out his hand to Ned, silently asking him to take the crucifix.

Ned furrowed his brow as realization dawned on him; he had seen Christine wearing that cross before. "Erik," Ned started, "is that…?" Before he had a chance to ask the question, Erik cut him off sharply, "Yes, it is. Now, take it," he ordered impatiently.

Ned took a deep breath, hesitating for a moment. "Erik, are you certain?"

"I can't keep it now, can I?" Erik's voice faltered as he spoke the next words. "If anything should happen, if I don't make it out alive, I want you to return this to Christine. And tell her…" Erik's gaze moved away from Ned. He looked at the grassy ground at their feet for a moment. His voice trailed off, the soft wind carrying the unsaid words on its wings in silence. Erik was surprised to find that his throat had constricted so tightly that for a moment, he couldn't speak anymore.

Clearing his throat, Erik looked back at Ned, who had placed the map in his pocket and was now stretching out his free hand to take the crucifix.

"Just give it back to her, will you? If I can't," Erik said firmly.

Ned took the crucifix and placed it in his pocket as well, without saying a word, for in truth he didn't know what to say.

"Let's get it over with, then."

Ned swallowed and nodded.

Erik turned toward Cesar and from the saddlebag removed a jug of strong whiskey. He raised the jug to his lips and took a big gulp. Taking a deep breath, he took another. He then returned the jug to its place and wiped his mouth with his hand. Turning back to Ned, who stood rooted to the spot, Erik spoke again, his words floating on the wind, eerie and deadly. "I'm ready." _Christine, I love you. _

Ned cleared his throat, which was suddenly as dry as sand paper. He asked quietly, "Where?"

"My left shoulder. Slash some of my left arm as well. The wound should be big but not deep."

Ned closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed hard. _God have mercy on us_, he silently prayed. Opening his eyes, he raised his slightly trembling right hand. The light caught on the blade of the dagger, making it blaze like a flame from the fires of hell.

Giving a slight nod, Erik gritted his teeth, preparing himself for the pain. And the firm order was spoken. "Now!"

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Christine frowned. "Did you say Raoul De Chagny?"

"I believe I did," Raoul replied, his hand still stretched out, waiting for her to take it in a friendly shake.

Christine shook her head for a moment, hardly able to believe it. She looked back at Raoul and laughed. "I can't believe it!"

Remembering that his hand was still held out to her, Christine took it and shook it warmly. It was Raoul's turn to frown now at her reaction. He opened his mouth to speak but Christine cut him off by saying, "I am Christine Daee." Her smile was brilliant. "Don't you remember me? The house by the sea? Father playing the violin?"

Raoul's smile vanished and he looked shocked as he exclaimed, "Christine Daee? Why, of course, I remember you!" He looked disbelievingly at her before smiling back. "The moment I saw you I knew that there was something familiar about you." He held on to Christine's hand and brought his other hand to cover hers with it continuing warmly, "I also remember the red scarf. It was left to you by your mother and you treasured it."

Christine smiled even more brightly as she replied, "And you saved it from the sea."

He grinned boyishly. "I believe I did."

Meg watched silently, caught by complete surprise at the scene enfolding before her. Christine knew their strange carriage companion!

Realizing that she had forgotten about Meg, Christine disentangled her hand from Raoul's grip, turned toward Meg and started making introductions.

"Raoul, this is Meg, my new friend."

"Meg, this is Raoul, an old friend."

Meg and Raoul shook hands and exchanged polite pleasantries. The carriage continued to move, jostling them every now and then. Christine sat back in her seat, relaxing and enjoying the peaceful and friendly mood that had settled on them.

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Ned's mind went blank, his breath stopped along with his heart as his hand flew down, efficient and merciless, cutting through Erik's shirt to slide through his skin - one big slash running from his shoulder down his left arm. Erik hissed and his knees almost buckled beneath him. The breath was knocked from him. A red liquid seeped out to cover the blade, Ned's trembling hand and Erik's white shirt. The droplets fell to the ground, silent tears of blood.

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With a loud gasp, Christine's body jerked. She sat up straight, her hands flying to her throat. The color drained from her face, her breathing becoming labored.The chatter between Meg and Raoul halted. Both of them turned curious and concerned looks at Christine. Seeing their worried looks, Christine, now feeling embarrassed and foolish, fought to regain some of her composure. _What ever is the matter with me? _She thought in apprehension. Why did she suddenly feel as if something terrible had happened? She felt as if something had sliced right into her heart.

"Christine?" Raoul asked worriedly, his hands flying to her shoulders to steady her, lest she fall from her seat to the floor. "What is the matter? You look as if you had just seen a ghost."

Regaining some of her composure, Christine tried to speak but words were lost to her. She didn't know what had happened to her just then.

"I…" Christine started, trailing off, feeling embarrassed and apprehensive all at the same time. She bit her lower lip for moment. Her hands fell to her lap and that feeling that seemed to suffocate her began to recede. "I - I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me," she said apologetically, her voice weak and strained.

Raoul didn't look very convinced. Meg asked worriedly, "Are you certain? If you're feeling unwell, if the carriage is making you dizzy, we could stop for a few minutes."

Raoul nodded and looked ready to call out to Armand to stop the carriage.

Christine shook her head vehemently, fighting to remain calm. She managed a weak smile for Raoul and Meg's benefit and said as lightly as possible, her voice coming out nervous and breathy, "I'm fine really. There's no need to stop. We're almost to our destination anyway. There's no need for any further delays."

Raoul seemed hesitant but then seemed to relent. He removed his hands from her shoulders, seeing that she could now support herself.

Christine took a deep breath, trying to control her beating heart, a silent prayer lifting up from her soul to the endless heavens… _Erik, please be well._

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Erik had fallen to his knees. The dagger fell from Ned's hand as he knelt down beside Erik.

"Erik, are you all right?" Ned asked worriedly reaching out to steady Erik, who in turn shoved Ned's hand aside.

"Couldn't be better," Erik hissed in reply, through gritted teeth. The pain was becoming bearable, he decided, and his vision was clearing. Looking at Ned, who looked as white as a sheet, Erik added with a small smile, "Good job."

Taking a few deep breaths to regain some of his strength, Erik looked meaningfully at Ned, who understood Erik's silent request. Ned helped Erik get up. Upon Erik's orders, Ned tied Erik's hands with Erik's own Punjab lasso. That way, Erik knew that Lucienne would be really amused and too smug to realize that this was all a trap. Ned helped Erik get on Cesar. The horse snorted and threw his head back. Somehow, Erik realized Cesar had sensed that his master was hurt and the horse was trying to help. Erik leaned down, burying his face in Cesar's mane, not able to sit upright for long. He whispered hoarsely, "Good boy, Cesar."

Ned mounted his own horse and took up Cesar's reins in one hand and his own horse's reins in the other. Ned kept the horses to a steady pace, not too fast, not too slow. He took directions from Erik and checked the map every now and then as well.

"Lucienne's hideout isn't too far. Three hours at the most and we'll be there," Erik said weakly. Leaning against Cesar's neck again, he whispered to himself once more, "we'll be there."

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The carriage came to an abrupt halt. A tense silence fell over the three occupants as two valets rushed to the door and opened it, extending their hands to help the ladies out. Raoul followed. Christine had been too overwhelmed and shocked by the feelings that had assailed her out of nowhere to notice that they had entered a gated estate, with walls surrounding it. The place seemed to be huge. Christine stood there mesmerized by the majesty of the house. It looked just like a palace out of one of those fairytale books she used to read with Mary Catherine.

Meg was just as taken by the place, having come from a family of humble origins, her mother being a ballet mistress and she being a ballerina. They had never been to such a residence in all their lives.

Raoul, however, did not look surprised in the least.

He gave orders for the servants to carry in their luggage. Christine gaped at him; he was acting as if he owned the place. Turning to the ladies, Raoul said with a grin, "Ladies, please accept my invitation to spend a few days at my home." He waved his hand at the mansion, waiting for them to climb the stairs to the entrance.

"Your home?" Christine repeated stupidly, feeling confused. "But I thought…" her voice trailed off. She turned around to look for Armand; surely, he would clarify this. Erik did not intend to send her to Raoul's place. Why, Erik couldn't even have known that Raoul would join them on their journey! Christine frowned; something was wrong.

"Where is Armand?" Christine asked when she had looked around and couldn't find him.

Raoul smiled. "He's probably in the stables, taking care of the poor horses. And the carriage." Taking her hand in his and placing it in the crook of his arm, he turned to look at Meg, waving for her to come, too. Meg smiled back and followed. Raoul turned his attention back to Christine, and noticing her tension, he said coaxingly, "Relax.."

"But, Raoul… we can't stop here… Erik! … He doesn't know… we're not supposed to stop here!…" and then Christine clamped her mouth shut, stopping herself from saying more. Even though she didn't know what was going on, she knew that she shouldn't talk about Erik so freely, especially now. Raoul continued walking, leading her up the stairs and to the grand entrance of the De Chagny estate.

Once inside, Christine's tension eased a little to give way to fascination. She looked around at all the artifacts, the high ceilings, the golden chandeliers, the exquisite paintings, and the luxurious furnishings. It was all too breathtaking.

Everything happened in a blur, to Christine. Raoul led her to her room and then asked the maids to help Christine with her clothes and ordered a bath be brought up. Christine was grateful to him, and was also silently thankful when Raoul excused himself to show Meg to her room. Closing the door behind her, Christine breathed in relief. Something was wrong, Christine thought again, but her bubbling hysteria was tamped down when she turned around to look at _her room_, as Raoul had called it. Why, surely the emperor had never had such a luxurious room! Christine thought dazedly. White silk drapes hung from huge windows, and there was a four-poster bed with coverings made of the finest linen including feather pillows and soft white sheets. A huge cupboard, carved and designed exquisitely, made of the finest wood. Two dressers and a beautifully framed mirror.

But what did luxury really matter? she thought bitterly.

Suddenly, Christine felt weary, too weary. She didn't want to think anymore. She didn't want to feel; she just wanted to sink into the cushions of that wide, luxurious bed and sleep.

A knock startled her. She turned around and opened the door. A young maid stood at the door. She curtsied, all the while keeping her gaze on the floor, which caused Christine to frown.

"My lady, is there anything I can do for you? Your bath is on its way."

"Oh, thank you," Christine replied. "I just need some help with the lacings of my dress, if you could, please?"

"Of course, miss," the maid walked hurriedly in and Christine closed the door. She stood before her vanity table and the maid undid the lacings of her dress. Christine noticed - watching the reflection of her and the maid - that all the while the poor maid kept her gaze at the floor.

"Why do you keep looking at the floor?" Christine asked, genuinely curious.

The maid looked startled as she raised her wide, shocked eyes to meet Christine's reflection in the mirror, before looking back down just as quickly. "It's just the way a maid is supposed to act."

"Hmm." Christine said, giving it some thought. "Well, you don't have to look at the floor when you're helping me. Please."

The maid's gaze slowly traveled up to Christine's face and she looked genuinely surprised to realize that Christine really meant it.

"All right, then, miss," the maid said with a smile, moving away from Christine after having finished loosening the lacings of Christine's dress.

"Thank you," Christine said. But before another word could be said, another knock came on the door.

"It's probably your bath, miss," the maid said as she walked to the door and opened it. The bathtub was carried in, along with fresh towels, soap and cloths. Several maids entered, carrying pots of hot water and poured them in the tub. When all was ready, the maids excused themselves, since Christine informed them that she would take her bath alone, without any help.

Turning to leave, the young maid who had helped Christine with the lacings of her dress was about to leave as well but Christine stopped her.

"Yes, miss?" the maid asked.

Christine closed the door and turned to the maid. "I need to ask you some questions – " Christine looked meaningfully at the maid, allowing her sentence to trail off and waiting for the maid to give her name.

"My name is Jammes, miss."

"Jammes," Christine continued, realizing that she had to pick her question carefully. "Do you know what Monsieur De Chagny will be doing tonight?" Christine attempted to laugh nonchalantly. Instead her laugh came out brittle and shrill. Nevertheless, she continued more calmly, "I mean, it's really exciting to be here, but I wondered if he will be joining us for dinner?" Perhaps there was a chance for escape…or to investigate whatever was going on…Christine thought frantically.

Jammes smiled and said excitedly, "Why, no need to worry about it, miss. Monsieur De Changy has just sent a messenger. He is inviting a very special guest tonight for dinner!" Jammes leaned in to add conspiratorially, "And I shouldn't be saying this, but I heard from the maids downstairs that he has a special interest in you."

Christine frowned, her unease and worry increasing by the minute. "Who? Raoul?"

The maid laughed girlishly and Christine assumed that she was no older than sixteen. Her eyes glittering with curiosity and excitement she said, "No, miss. It's the guest who's coming tonight for dinner - he has a great interest in you. I heard that he's a very important person!"

Christine's face drained of all color. For the first time, she hoped that Erik had told her everything about what was happening, what had happened to her father. Could Raoul somehow be related to all that? Who was this mystery guest that Raoul wanted her to meet? Erik hadn't planned any of this and he was the one protecting her. And if Erik hadn't planned this, then this was some sort of trap, Christine suddenly realized, her heart beats escalating, her breathing constricting for a moment. _Oh God_, perhaps Raoul was an innocent partner… perhaps he didn't know that this man…this guest, was the enemy. _Perhaps I'm reading too much into it_, she thought all of a sudden, trying desperately to encourage herself.

"Miss, are you all right? You look as white as a sheet," Jammes exclaimed worriedly.

"I'm fine," Christine replied quickly, pasting a bright smile on her face. She thanked Jammes and closed the door. As the maid left, Christine locked it, feeling safer. All at once, she felt alone and lost.

But she knew that she had to keep her wits about her. And so in her mind she went back over everything she knew so far. Raoul had known the driver…Phillipe was Raoul's brother and somehow Phillipe was associated with Erik, since he had been helping Erik…Phillipe was somehow missing and Raoul was looking for him… But instead of taking a short lift with them, Raoul had brought her and Meg to his residence, where he planned to introduce her to someone…an important someone… And somehow she was stuck in the middle of it all. It just didn't make any sense.

Taking a deep breath, Christine decided that she had survived many things in her life, and she would survive this. She would find out the truth…No matter what…

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Raoul eased himself into his chair in his brother's office. He had sent a messenger to the Marquess' residence. The Marquess had visited Raoul several days before and struck a bargain with him. Raoul inhaled deeply as he remembered their conversation. The night that had changed Raoul's life.

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"Marquess De Barbezac, what a pleasant surprise," Raoul had greeted warmly.

The tip of the Marquess' thin mouth twisted up in half a smile as he replied in that completely refined manner of his, "The pleasure is all mine."

Offering the gentleman a seat, Raoul raised his hand to ring the bell and call one of the maids to bring in some refreshments and wine. Only the Marquess had waved them off, telling Raoul that the matter was urgent and that there was no time for pleasantries.

Sitting in his chair, Raoul had frowned when the Marquess had mentioned Phillipe.

"Phillipe? What about Phillipe? He's on a business trip."

"That's what he told you my boy. But the truth of the matter is, Phillipe has been caught up in some illegal business, I fear, and his life is in danger."

Raoul hadn't been sure at that point if he should feel angry and outraged at this man's claims, or if he should feel worried. Clearing his throat, his cheeks turning red as he fought to control his rising anger, he asked cautiously, "And what, may I ask, led you to believe such lies about my brother?"

The Marquess, removing his handkerchief from his pocket, wiped away the sweat that had gathered on his forehead. He looked tired and pale. "Listen to me," he said, before pausing and removing something else from his pocket. It glittered in the light and Raoul's breath caught - it was Phillipe's family ring. Phillipe would never, ever, part with this ring willingly.

"Perhaps this will convince you that what I say is true. I have some very good sources."

The Marquess allowed the ring to fall from his hand onto the table before Raoul. The ring hit the wood with a resounding _"thunk_". Raoul couldn't speak.

"Now, I believe we have a mutual interest. We both want the monster."

"What monster?" Raoul asked faintly, his fingers idly stroking his brother's ring.

"The monster who has kidnapped your brother - and my betrothed."

Raoul's head turned sharply back to the man sitting at the other side of his desk, his eyes wide with shock.

"What? …How?"

The man sighed, looking as worried as Raoul felt.

"Monsieur Le Vicomte, we are dealing here with a mad man. He is not just mad but a grotesquely deformed creature. He is evil. He has your brother and just recently I have discovered that he has my betrothed as well. If we are to save them, then our only chance is to work together. Phillipe being associated with that monster," he paused before adding "unwillingly" in order to win Raoul's complete trust and compliance, then he continued, "will make it easier for us to locate him and my betrothed."

Raoul's head was reeling with all this information.

"But how do you know that this monster – this thing" Raoul waved his hand in frustration, "has my brother? How do I know that your resources are to be trusted?"

"You have the ring, don't you?" came that simple haunting reply.

Raoul couldn't think; he couldn't breathe. The Marquess was right; Phillipe wouldn't have removed his ring, unless something terrible had happened to him.

"How can I help?" Raoul asked robotically.

The Marquess smiled and for a moment Raoul had felt his spine prickle with unease; the Marquess's smile was malicious. But then Raoul had quickly attributed his feeling to his tired frame of mind.

"First, we have to search your brother's documents. They will prove very valuable in our search. You help me get my betrothed back and I'll help you get your brother back."

Raoul felt even more uneasy. "Why do we not just inform the police?" he suggested reasonably.

The Marquess looked at Raoul, his gaze piercing and deadly. "You do not know the man we are dealing with here. He would kill them in an instant if he knew that the police were involved." He paused to add more effect to his next words. "Unless you want to anger 'the living corpse.'"

Raoul shuddered at the name. He didn't even want to know what had caused the monster to kidnap this poor man's betrothed. He sympathized with the woman indeed. But his thoughts now were with his brother. His heart missed a beat, just at the thought of his brother at the mercy of such a cruel creature.

"What do I do?" Raoul asked determinedly.

The Marquess smiled again. "First, let's start by removing all the formalities between us. Please," he had said good naturedly, "call me Lucienne."

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Ironically enough, Raoul thought as he leaned back in his chair, the woman had turned out to be Christine…and that same feeling of unease prickled up his spine again …and for the first time since he had struck that deal with the Marquess De Barbezac, Raoul wondered if he was doing the right thing…


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen: (The De Chagny Estate) Part Two**

_September 10, 1867_

_Dear Angel of Music,_

_I have returned from town, and, oh, Angel, it was a beautiful and frightening experience. I never knew that the world could be such a big and scary place. I was so taken with the trinkets that an old gypsy was selling that I lost Sister Monica. I didn't know where she had gone. Luckily I found her soon after in one of the shops. _

_But oh, Angel, in those moments when I thought that I had lost her, in those moments, I felt afraid and the world seemed like such a lonely and unfriendly place. I never want to feel that way again. _

_Thank you, Angel, for being with us, for helping us to return safely. Mary Catherine was disappointed because we didn't get her anything._

_Ever since that incident, I've been thinking that if ever I get lost, whether it be on a street or in grief, whether it be in soul, heart or spirit, I pray that you would find me. I pray that you would never, ever leave me. I do not want to feel the way I felt when I was left alone on that street downtown, when I didn't know which way to go, or what to do. _

_I love you, Angel…Holy Angel in heaven blessed, my spirit longs with thee to rest…_

_Lovingly,_

_Christine Daae_

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The Marquess put down the message he had received from the stupid De Chagny boy. He was glad that Christine Daae had been found. Oh, he had plans for her, special plans.

He called out to two of his men and gave them orders to go out and follow Phillipe's tracks. He knew that by now, Phillipe would have collapsed somewhere in the wilderness. He had made sure that Phillipe would not be able to survive for long. If they found him dead, so much the better, for he would pin all the blame on Erik and gain Raoul's definite help. The boy would prove to be of use.

And if Phillipe were still alive, he would be greatly battered, and by the time he regained his health, he would support Lucienne's tale, for if he didn't, he knew that he would lose his younger brother and that fiancée of his. Blackmailing Phillipe had turned out to be much easier than he had expected.

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The horses came to a stop on the summit of a hill overlooking Paris. Both Erik and Ned looked bitterly at that beautiful city. Now that it had fallen, smoke could be seen along with ruins. Sounds of faraway wailing carried sorrowfully and eerily over the breeze. Both men felt a deep pain for the fate of this city. But they knew that Paris would not be defeated; it would rise again from the ruin.

And there, sitting on a slight hill, Erik saw the great estate of the Marquess. Erik felt the rush of adrenaline in his veins, the anticipation of the kill. He closed his eyes and inhaled. In that moment, the breeze blew by, gently caressing Erik, reminding him of a soft and gentle angel touch, that of his Christine. Only now, he had no time for sentimentalities. His heart was shut down and all he allowed himself to think about was the job ahead of him. It wouldn't be hard, no, it wouldn't, Erik smirked and silently mocked the breeze. There was nothing gentle or beautiful about the world, only Christine, but she was not of the world, she was heaven, his miracle.

"Well, we're here and you're still in one piece," Ned observed.

Erik straightened, wincing at the pain that still laced his shoulder and arm, but that did not dampen his mood one bit.

"Yes."

The breeze blew again, incessantly, as if daring Erik to completely be able to put Christine from his thoughts. Erik growled at it, silently. He knew that it was irrational, but he did not care. The damned breeze would not remind him of love or of Christine's touch!

"I have been thinking during our ride here-," Ned said as Erik noticed the steely edge to Ned's voice. "I thought I would do it on my own, but since you're here now, I guess I will need your help, too."

Erik raised a brow, silently waiting for Ned to clarify. Ned raked his hand through his hair before looking sharply at Erik. "Before you kill Lucienne, I want the name or names of the man or men who brutalized Marguerite Giry."

Erik smiled chillingly. "That's the spirit." His eyes sparkled with deadly amusement as he continued, "I'm glad that you're not reluctant about this plan anymore."

A moment of silence passed and another wail was carried on the breeze, holding in its arms long lost tales, silent whispers left untold.

"Well," Erik said in a business-like fashion, "let's get this done with, shall we? I'll get you those names. I would also love to help."

Ned told himself that he didn't want to know, but he had to have that information. And so he asked, "How do you intend to kill Lucienne?"

"With my bare hands," Erik replied darkly.

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Christine sat before the vanity table looking at her reflection, hardly able to believe that she was wearing such an extravagant dress, or that her hair was made to look like a queen's. She had taken her bath. Her aching muscles felt relaxed and she felt refreshed and ready to start investigating what was happening. She wore a long light blue silk dress. It was of the latest fashion. The sleeves fell low off her shoulders, revealing some creamy skin. The dress was embroidered with white lace around the bodice and the hem. Its skirts fell down to her feet in beautiful waves. She was also wearing long white gloves. A necklace of white diamonds graced her neck and matching earrings dangled from her ears. A pearl and sapphire bracelet sparkled at her right wrist resting on the white glove.

The maids, had fixed her hair and left it loose to fall down to her waist in golden ringlets. They had placed star shaped pins that glittered like sapphires in her hair. Christine thought that it was all overdone, and yet she felt a rush of pleasure when she looked at herself in the mirror. And the words of the maids still rang in her ears. "_Oh, miss, you look like an angel!" _Another maid had exclaimed, "_You look lovely!"_ Jammes had piped in, saying, _"Mademoiselle, you look like a queen. No man will be able to take his eyes off you!" _At which point Christine had scolded Jammes, telling her that she wanted no male attention. The maids had laughed at that, telling her that it didn't matter if she wanted it or not, she would still capture any man's eye.

Now left alone, Christine wondered whom this dinner guest might be.

Looking around the room, Christine realized that during this eventful day, she hadn't noticed that the maids had unpacked her things, and that her father's box now sat atop the small table by the bed. Something small and shiny placed by the side of the box caught Christine's gaze. For a moment, her breath caught. _Could it be?…the key?…how?…_ Christine rose from her chair to see. Perhaps it was just an earring that had been misplaced. At that moment, a knock sounded on her door, which halted Christine's approach to the small table and her attention snapped to the door. She turned, holding her skirts as she walked two steps and opened the door.

Meg stood there in a beautiful peach colored dress. Christine didn't recognize her for a moment. Meg - the skinny, pale woman, her face so bruised and battered - now stood there looking beautiful with her hair raised up and falling in raven tresses over her shoulders, adorned by a crown of small white flowers.

"Oh, Meg!" Christine exclaimed. "You look so beautiful!"

Meg bit her lightly rouged lower lip and smiled. "You look very beautiful, too."

However Meg's gaze turned serious an instant later as she took Christine's arm and whispered urgently, "We still have an hour or so before dinner. I need to talk to you."

Christine nodded and moved away from the entrance to the door, allowing Meg to walk in. Meg hurriedly entered and sat herself on the edge of the huge bed. Christine closed the door and followed. Sitting there, a few moments of tense silence passed, Meg staring at her hands and Christine trying to look past Meg to the table on the other side of the huge bed, to see if there was a key or not. She scolded herself silently for allowing her thoughts to wander, when Meg was obviously upset about something. Meg raised her head and Christine's breath caught at the panic she saw in Meg's eyes. It didn't help matters any that Christine herself was feeling very uneasy, and now Meg's look made Christine feel that old prickle of fear, of knowing that something awful was about to happen.

Meg opened her mouth to speak but her lips moved for several moments before any sound came out and then she said with a wavery voice, "I heard the maids talking earlier, when they were helping me with this," Meg's hand swept in the direction of her dress and up to her hair, "and they were talking about the guest who is coming to dinner."

At the mention of the guest, Christine's heart missed a beat, and she didn't fail to notice that Meg was trembling, which only added to Christine's apprehension.

"And?" Christine urged.

Meg's eyes filled with tears and her voice trembled even more as she added, "I have heard his name before. It's him!" A sob broke from her and tears spilled down her cheeks.

"Oh, Meg!" Christine whispered, feeling so worried she could barely breathe, as she took Meg's trembling hands in her own. She was surprised to feel the iciness of Meg's skin even through the cloth of the gloves they both wore. Christine continued softly, a hint of panic in her voice, "I don't understand. Please tell me."

Meg shook her head a little, as if trying to get rid of something, before replying in a more controlled voice. "I never told you, but you see, I was kidnapped. Wh - when I was found, I had been…I was barely alive."

"I know," Christine said.

"No! You do not!" Meg said vehemently, her voice quivery and thin, filled with anguish as she spat out, "I was beaten and raped and left for dead!" Another sob broke from her and her shoulders shook as she tried to control the sobs that seemed to be begging to be released.

Christine felt her own eyes fill with tears. Life had been so unfair, to both of them. Although Christine didn't understand precisely what the word "rape" meant, she had a general idea. Christine leaned forward, disengaging her hands from Meg's and this time taking Meg in a strong, tight hug. While Meg wept heart-wrenching sobs, Christine cried softly with her, for her and for herself. But somehow she tried to calm Meg. When Meg had calmed down, she withdrew from Christine's embrace and wiped the remaining tears from her eyes and cheeks.

"I'm sorry."

Christine wiped the tears from her eyes as well as she replied, "It's all right."

Meg didn't waste any more time; she needed to get this out. She needed to warn Christine and they needed to get out of this place. "Listen to me, Christine. When the men," her voice broke a little but she continued firmly, "when the men kidnapped me, I heard one of them say 'Lucienne will be so pleased' while another said 'The Marquess better pay the amount he promised us' to which someone replied 'Oh, I assure you he will, he always keeps his promises'." Meg didn't waste a breath before saying loathingly and fearfully, "The Marquess De Barbezac is the dinner guest!"

Christine felt sick - sick to her stomach. She thought she might throw up. "Oh, God," she whispered horrified, both her hands flying to cover her mouth as she tried to stifle her hysteria. So the honored guest was the Marquess, the man who had a great interest in her. Her fears had been right…

Meg rose and paced before Christine, placing on hand on her forehead, trying to calm herself. "We must get out of here."

Christine looked up at Meg, as her hands fell down to her waist. "Yes. We have to find a way out. Raoul!" she said with a start. "He can help us. If we tell him the truth."

Christine grabbed Meg's arm and marched determinedly toward the door. Silently, she prayed for all she was worth, begging that it would work out, that Raoul would believe them. They stepped into the hall, and hurried toward the stairs, but only half way down, both women froze as they heard the voice of the butler announce the arrival of the Marquess De Barbezac. And to Christine's horror, she then heard Raoul greet him, calling him "Lucienne."

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The two big guards standing at the gate of the Marquess' estate stared expressionlessly as Ned stopped his steed before them and dismounted. Ned then walked toward the other horse, upon which was a tall man, slumped over the horse's neck and bleeding from the shoulder and down his arm. The man, whom the guards noticed was masked, had his hands tied.

Ned jerked Erik down from atop Cesar and sneered, looking irritated and annoyed. Erik pretended to be so wounded that he could barely stand, hovering between unconscious and conscious. The ploy was working perfectly, Erik noticed, for the guards' attention was piqued. Ned dragged Erik forward, who deliberately stumbled several times and then stood, almost falling to his knees, when Ned stopped before the two guards at the gate.

"Who are you?" one of the guards asked.

"Who I am does not matter. Tell your master that I have something of great value for him," Ned snapped.

"The master is not here at the moment," the other guard replied, almost growling. "Not to mention that he does not receive guests unless they have given prior notice of their arrival."

Ned glowered at him, in order to intimidate the guards as much as possible, and he half smiled. "Then send him a messenger. NOW!"

The first guard moved forward ready to shove Ned to the ground, but Ned, still holding Erik's rope in one hand, raised his free hand, moving his index finger as if he were talking to an obnoxious child. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. Don't make a fool of yourself. How do you think your master will feel when he finds out that he had The Living Corpse in his grasp, and because of the incompetence of his foolish guards, he slipped away."

At that point, Ned jerked on the rope holding Erik's bound hands. Erik pretended to be about to fall. "If I leave now, I will not return. I will, however, write to your master and tell him about your incompetence. I hear he does quite an excellent job when it comes to punishment."

Both guards swallowed, visibly shaken. Ned knew that he had gotten their full attention and compliance the moment he mentioned _The Living Corpse_.

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"Oh, God!" both Meg and Christine whispered together. Christine turned around and pulled Meg behind her as they ran up the stairs and quickly back into Christine's room. Christine closed the door and locked it, then turned around and rested her back against it. Meg stood by the bedside, supporting herself by holding onto the bedpost. There was no way out now, Christine thought frantically. This was her worst nightmare coming true. _Oh, Erik, where are you? Angel, I need you so much!_

"It's too late," Meg whispered miserably.

Christine pushed herself from the door and said firmly, her eyes blazing, "No. It's not!" She refused to give up without a fight.

Meg turned to Christine, clearly befuddled by Christine's statement. Christine stood there bravely, exuding bravado she was far from feeling, for inside she was shaking like an autumn leave blown in the wind.

"We will not give in without a fight!" Christine said vehemently, her voice shaking slightly, her eyes blazing with anger. "We have come this far - we will make it!" With that, Christine whirled around looking frantically at her room, trying to find something - anything - to use, that could help them escape. Her sight fell on the bed; it was so huge and had several sheets plus the covers. _That's it!_

"The sheets!" Christine exclaimed. Meg stood there, still holding the bedpost, her knuckles white from the pressure. Meg looked at the sheets trying to understand through a haze of unbelief, fear and tears. Christine rushed to the bed and started pulling the sheets and covers off. "Help me!" she cried.

Meg's mind finally started to function again and she hurried to Christine's side as understanding dawned on her. Christine and Meg began tying the sheets together, making a long rope. They started tying the covers to the sheets as well, adding much needed additional length to the rope.

A knock sounded on the door startling both of them. Christine thought her heart would stop.

"Who is it?" Christine called out in what she tried to make a casual voice, but even she knew how shrill and nervous she sounded.

"It's me, miss, Jammes. I have come to inform you that dinner is ready to be served and that the master and his guest are waiting for you."

"Please tell them that I will be a little late. You see - " Christine groped for a good lie, looking at Meg momentarily for help. And Meg came to the rescue. "Christine is helping me with my makeup. We'll be down in a moment."

The door handle turned left, then right. "But I can help you, Madamoiselle!" Jammes exclaimed. "Are you certain you're both all right? The door is locked."

"Yes," Christine shouted back irritably. "We're fine. We'll be down in a few moments. Now please leave!"

No other sound came from the other side of the door. Christine exhaled the breath she had been holding back and Meg sighed in relief. Christine rushed to the rope that they had made.

"Hurry," she whispered to Meg and she tied the rope as firmly as she could to the bedpost. Meg threw the remaining rope out the window. Both women stood at the window, reluctant for a moment as they looked down. Two stories wasn't a short distance. Plus the dresses they wore would hinder them in their descent and escape.

Christine turned to Meg. "We have to get out of these clothes. We can't move quickly and we certainly can't climb out this window with all these stifling layers of cloth."

"But what will we wear?" Meg asked.

"We'll stay in our undergarments, silly. And we'll throw down two cloaks from here, so that once we're down, we'll wear the cloaks. That way, our movements will not be hindered and we'll be able to run as fast and as far away from here as possible."

Meg nodded. Both women struggled with the lacings of their dresses. Christine was somewhat disappointed to have to leave such a beautiful dress behind but there was no other way. Christine also removed most of the pins from her hair. Because she was in such a hurry, she wasn't certain she had removed all of them but there was no more time. Meg yanked the crown of white roses from her hair. Then they removed the earring and necklaces. Christine placed the necklace, bracelet and earrings on the dresser, Meg followed Christine's lead. Finally, in their chemises and bloomers and wearing flat-heeled slippers, they turned to the window.

Meg started to climb out.

It was then that Christine remembered her father's box, which was one thing she couldn't leave behind. She walked to the small table and was stunned to see that there was indeed a small key placed by the box. How could it be? She wondered, but she had no time to think or react as Meg hissed urgently, "Hurry! We're running out of time."

Christine quickly placed the small key in her bodice. Then she clutched her father's box and ran to the cupboard where she found a shawl. She placed the box on her waist and tied the shawl around her waist and the box, anchoring it to her. Meg was already half way down the rope of sheets when Christine rushed to the window and looked down. She took a deep breath and then climbed out, placing one foot at a time over the window sill and pushing herself forward, while holding onto the rope with her hands.

When her feet hit the ground at last, Christine was trembling. All had gone well so far. Meg was waiting for her, with a cloak in her hand.

"Here," Meg whispered. Christine took the cloak and wrapped it around herself. She shuddered, for it was cold outside. Christine placed the hood of the cloak over her head and so did Meg. Both headed as quickly as they could toward the gates of the estate. If they could make it past the gates, they would be free.

_I love you, Erik, please, help me find you… Christine's heart whispered…_

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"Where is she?" the Marquess said irritably, placing his glass of wine on the table with a loud thud.

"I'll go check - " before Raoul had a chance to finish his sentence, the butler came in hurriedly, carrying what seemed like a letter, which he handed to the Marquess. "It's a message for you, sir. The boy says it's very, very urgent," the butler said.

The Marquess took the folded piece of paper and opened it. As he started to read, his annoyance turned to shock, then smugness. He stood, his demeanor triumphant.

"I must leave now," he informed Raoul.

"But - " Raoul started.

The Marquess raised a hand to silence any protests and said calmly, "My dear Vicomte, I trust that my betrothed is safe and sound in your care. Let her spend one more day here. It seems she needs some time to get over her ordeal and the shock of being kidnapped by that monster. She needs space right now and I think we're putting her under a lot of pressure." The Marquess continued to smile and Raoul felt greatly uneasy again in the Marquess' presence. Something was very wrong about this whole situation. The Marquess continued in reassurance. "I will come tomorrow for lunch and we'll talk. I am sure my betrothed will be more ready to return with me to her new home where she belongs. Thank you very much for all that you are doing, Vicomte."

He shook Raoul's hand and then walked briskly to the door, where he was handed his jacket, cloak, cane and hat. At that moment, Raoul felt relieved that the Marquess had left. Now he had more time to talk to Christine, to hear her side of the story. It had been a stupid move on his part to follow the Marquess' instructions without questioning more and digging deeper.

"Sir," Jammes the young maid came running into the sitting room. "I can't open the door to Madamoiselle Christine's room! And no one is answering. I knocked several times to check if everything was fine, and no one is answering!" the young maid looked close to tears.

Raoul's heartbeats escalated with worry as he made his way to Christine's room. If anything should happen to her, he would never forgive himself. He knocked on Christine's door.

"Christine!" he called out several times, knocking vehemently. When no answer came, Jammes began to cry and other maids began to gather around to watch the scene. Raoul moved back several paces before rushing forward and ramming his body against the door. The wood shuddered and cracked as the door flew open. What Raoul saw inside caused him to stop dead in his tracks. The window was open, the white drapes swaying gently in the night breeze, the bed was bare, all the sheets and covers had been removed. The room looked in a fairly chaotic state. Christine's expensive dress was left unkempt on the floor. Through a haze of shock and disbelief, Raoul realized that they had run off…two women into the night…defenseless, helpless…and all because of him…At that moment, he felt a chill climb up his spine, for the question that remained unanswered, was what could have scared them so much that they ran off like that…_Was it Lucienne? And why? _

Raoul did not waste another moment. He turned around and almost ran downstairs and to the door. Once outside, he called to the stable men. "Get my carriage. Now!"

A few minutes later, his carriage was set. They couldn't be far, Raoul realized with some relief. He would find them…he would find Christine and get an explanation. If she needed protection, he would protect her with his last breath. And it was then that the realization struck Raoul. As silly and as foolish as it sounded, he still loved her. He loved her - he had never stopped loving her. And he would fight for her. For Raoul knew in that moment that he would not give Christine up to Lucienne or anyone else, not without a fight.

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Lucienne could not wait to reach his estate. Once the carriage came to a stop, he climbed out, not waiting for the footman to open the door and hold it for him.

As he walked through the entrance of his huge mansion, Lucienne couldn't help but notice all the guards who were scattered everywhere. Oh, how he hated them, but he had had no choice. All this time he had been living in constant fear of that damned wretched monster…

The door to his office where Ned had been led to wait opened. There on the floor knelt a disheveled, bloodied masked man. Lucienne's gaze went skeptically from Ned to Erik and back to Ned. He would never have normally allowed himself to be alone with that creature, but seeing his pathetic bloodied state, Lucienne changed his mind and made an exception this time.

"So," Lucienne said to Ned as he began removing his gloves, "Why did you do me this great favor? What's in it for you?"

"Money," Ned replied coldly and that single word seemed to convince Lucienne that Ned was telling the truth for Lucienne threw his head back and began to laugh.

"Oh, this is rich," he said between chuckles, moving forward and closing the door behind him. He placed his black gloves on the desk and walked toward Erik. He then knelt down on one knee before Erik, grasping him by his dark hair and yanking his head back. "Even your so-called most loyal friend betrayed you for money. Dear, poor Erik, at last allowing himself to trust again. And what does your loyal friend do? He practically stabs you in the back and sells you to me," Lucienne taunted, continuing to chuckle. "Oh, I haven't had this much fun in a long, long time!"

Erik's gaze remained unfocused.

Lucienne abruptly snatched Erik's mask off. Erik's eyes flashed for a moment, but Lucienne was too busy gloating to notice that Erik's seemingly helpless state was nothing but a pretence. Lucienne looked at Erik's unmasked face with disgust.

"Do you know what I think, Erik? I think it is time for The Living Corpse to become a dead corpse. I should have finished you off ten years ago," Lucienne spat venomously.

Suddenly, Erik's seemingly unfocused gaze was focused and malicious as he turned the full effect of his blazing, deadly eyes on Lucienne and sneered, his grotesque face turning even more frightening. Lucienne gasped, his eyes widening in shock. Before Lucienne had time to say or do anything, Erik's hands, that had been loosely tied, flew to Lucienne's neck.

"My thoughts exactly," Erik replied ruthlessly.


	19. Chapter 19

-1**Chapter Nineteen: "The De Chagny Estate" Part Three**

_September 15, 1867_

_Dear Angel of Music,_

_It rained a lot today. The sky was gray and the thunder and lightning really frightened me. I am also very concerned for my roses. Oh, Angel, will they survive the storm? Please, please, protect my roses. Please tell God to let the storm come to an end, as soon as possible, because the sound of thunder scares me. It's silly, I know, but I can't help it. _

_Oh, Angel, when I was very little and I was scared, Papa was always there to play for me his beautiful music and to hold me tight. But now there is no music, and papa is gone. _

_Mother Superior always says that when one is feeling afraid or alone, one should always sing songs of praise and thanksgiving, and it will help ease the fear. She also says that we should pray in times when we are facing turmoil. Oh, Angel, hold me in your arms! I would give anything to feel your embrace…_

_Lovingly, _

_Christine Daae_

_-------------------------------_

_Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy Name… _

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It was dark, and it was cold. Mist sailed by, dulling vision even more, as Christine and Meg made their way toward the front gate of the De Chagny estate. They had decided to pretend to be two servant girls going home after work. The only obstacle that remained was convincing the guards.

Just as they were inching away from the crosswalk to take the path leading to the gates, the front door of the great house opened, causing Christine and Meg to duck down behind the bushes in the garden. There was some sort of commotion. A man was calling his valet and for his carriage to be readied immediately. Christine's heart hammered in her chest as frightening thoughts assailed her mind. What if they had already discovered her and Meg's disappearance, people would be looking all over for them, which would make their escape much harder, if not impossible. Christine took a deep, calming breath and whispered a silent prayer to the Heavens for strength and courage.

Meg was standing there, quietly waiting, her breathing coming faster with every passing moment, which only caused Christine to pray doubly hard, for Meg looked about to have a nervous breakdown.

When the carriage finally passed by them, Christine exhaled the breath she'd been holding and turned to Meg, who seemed oblivious to the fact that a carriage had just passed. Christine worriedly put her hand on Meg's shoulder and shook her lightly, saying in a low, reassuring whisper, "Meg, they're gone. It's all right."

Meg's attention snapped back as she looked at Christine and then around as if she had just woken up. Christine, relieved that nothing was wrong with Meg, let her hand fall from Meg's shoulder. Meg's smile was brittle but sure as she straightened and hugged her cloak closer to herself. "I'm sorry for that. Let's get moving."

"And what may I ask are you two doing out here?" came a calm, male voice from behind them, startling both Christine and Meg. They both turned around in a whirl of cloaks, looking guilty and scared.

Christine's jaw dropped when she saw the carriage driver. It was Armand standing before them in the moonlight, close enough so Christine could see his features. He had some graying hair and kind brown eyes, although right now they were looking at her with disapproval.

Christine's heart stopped beating for a moment, as she groped for composure. Meg beside her had gone very still and very pale. Christine took a deep breath and gathered whatever was remaining of her courage. She straightened her shoulders and started accusingly.

"Where have you been?" she shot back, turning the tables on him. "I have been looking everywhere for you. You had better have a good explanation, or you'll have to deal with Erik when I tell him about this!"

He raised a brow and looked at her, from her feet to her face. Christine felt very uncomfortable but resisted the urge to turn around and run, or scream for help.

"I see," he replied. And to her shock, Christine saw his gaze turn from harsh to approving.

The air sizzled with tension. Christine thought she would start screaming any moment now, but she held to her composure as if it were her lifeline, not daring to look at Meg or to see how she was faring in this. She waited, nailed to the ground, for Armand to clarify this situation.

Armand sighed, as he looked at both of them. "I apologize for scaring you," he said, and then he looked at Christine. "Erik will be most displeased if he knew that you were outside at night." Looking at both of them again, he reprimanded, "You're both very foolish girls, and very brave, too."

"What?!" Meg snapped back at him, as Christine glared at him angrily. How dare he? After everything they had gone through! And what exactly did he mean when he said that Erik would be displeased? Christine's heart plummeted. Did that mean that Erik knew that they would end up in the De Chagny estate? Could he possibly have sent her to her doom so heartlessly? Christine could not fathom or allow herself to belief it. Erik must have a reason and she would know what that reason was.

"Come," Armand said, seeming to relent, waving for them to follow as he made his way toward the back of the house. Both Christine and Meg walked briskly behind him.

"I demand to know what you meant when you said that Erik would be displeased. Does he know that we are here? Where are we going?' Christine asked, and though she tried to sound sure, her voice came out trembling.

"I have no time to explain now. But you must return inside before you catch a chill and then Erik will have me drawn and quartered." He said the last part of the sentence thoughtlessly. When he heard two loud gasps coming from behind, he realized what he had said. He turned around to find that both Christine and Meg had stopped walking and were standing next to each other, Meg so pale and Christine's eyes as wide as saucers, both looking at him aghast.

"I apologize, ladies. It was a ghastly effort at jesting on my part. I am awful when it comes to humor, and your expressions are solid proof of that," he said lightly, trying to reassure the ladies. What did she think Erik would do if anything happened to her? Armand thought. That Erik would just pat him on the shoulder? Then he wondered if the lady even knew who Erik really was, and how dangerous he could be. From her expression Armand realized that she had no idea.

Christine found herself breathing again. What had that silly man been thinking to make such a horrible joke, she thought, irritated with him, as they resumed walking. Then his other words sank in. He was returning them inside the house!

"I'm not going back in there," Christine announced, stopping.

Armand whirled around. "You do not have a choice."

But before any more could be said, the front door of the house was opened once again and there was a commotion. Christine and Meg were suddenly grabbed by Armand and pulled back behind tall shrubbery, as he moved them behind a tree.

"What - " Christine started, when Armand abruptly brought his finger to his mouth and shushed her as if she were a child. He peeked from around the tree to see what was happening, and another carriage sped past their hiding place. Armand realized that Raoul had discovered Christine's and Meg's disappearance. It was too late to return them into the house as if nothing had happened and expect Raoul not to ask questions, but he would handle it. He sighed and leaned back against the tree seemingly frustrated.

When the carriage had passed and Christine realized that all was clear, she turned to face Armand.

"So now will you enlighten us as to what is going on?" Christine asked as she crossed her arms on her chest.

"I will do better than that, my lady. I will escort you to back to your room."

Christine's hands fell to her sides as she stood there glaring at him. "I will not go back," she stated with finality. "You obviously work for Erik, and I think it's safe to assume that you know his whereabouts."

He gave a slight nod, waiting for her to continue. At his affirmative gesture, Christine went on coolly, "Well, then I demand that you take me to him. I never wanted to part from him to begin with. But the man is just too stubborn!" Christine said the last part of her declaration with exasperation.

Armand struggled to tamp down his amusement. The lady was very brave.

"Well?" Meg prodded, ending the ensuing silence and urging him to respond to Christine's rant. Meg wanted to go back, too, for she already missed Ned.

He straightened and his demeanor took on a hard edge as he spoke in a no-nonsense tone. "I'm afraid I can't do that. I am under strict orders. You two are to stay here for now."

So it was true, Christine thought numbly, tears burning her eyes, tears she did not allow to fall. Erik had heartlessly sent her to her doom. He didn't want her. Perhaps he never loved her to begin with. No, she scolded herself, she couldn't allow herself to believe that. Erik had a plan. He loved her. She had to see him. She had to know… He had promised! The bile rose in her throat and Christine wavered for a moment, swaying slightly as if she were about to collapse. From a distance, she heard faint voices, male and female, asking her if she was all right. The voices beckoned her back to awareness as she realized that Armand was steadying her.

"I - I'm fine," Christine replied weakly as she feebly freed her arm from Armand's grip. He looked concerned and Meg looked worried.

"Are you sure?" he asked, while Meg fidgeted with her cloak nervously, awaiting Christine's reply.

"Yes," Christine said in as firm a voice as she could muster under the circumstances. "I'm perfectly fine."

"Let's take you ladies back inside," Armand said with more determination. "It's this cold. You need to rest." With that, he changed his course and led them to the front door this time. Raoul had already discovered them missing, so there was no point in using the back door and trying to sneak them back in secretly, Armand figured. This way it would tamp down suspicions and he made up his mind concerning the lies he would tell Raoul when he returned from his search. Standing at the door, Armand paused for a moment as he turned to look at the ladies.

"Remember, do not say a word about this to anyone, not Raoul" and he emphasized 'Raoul' "or anyone else. If anyone asks," he corrected himself, "when Raoul asks, do not mention Erik - or Ned, for that matter, is that clear? I will tell Raoul that I found you wandering in the gardens getting some fresh air. When asked, tell him that one of you didn't feel well, and so, seeing that the Marquess had left, you decided to take some fresh air."

Both women nodded. With that, Armand raised his fist to knock on the door, when Christine's soft voice stopped him. "I would just like to know one thing," Christine whispered, trying to keep the hurt out of her voice. "Did Erik plan to bring me here and leave me? You see, I know about the Marquess, so if you want my cooperation, you will tell me. Did he make a deal with that vile man?"

She could see the shocked look in Armand's gaze. Clearly he hadn't expected her to know about the Marquess.

"I assure you, my lady, that Erik is taking care of that man as we speak. He would never abandon you." Just looking at her big beautiful blue eyes, which shone like liquid silver in the moonlight, shimmering with tears, softened his heart and he added just to reassure her, "As a matter of fact, there are two score of men in and around the De Chagny estate, under strict orders, just for your protection."

Christine's heart did a little jig in her chest, and she smiled, the faintest of smiles. He hadn't abandoned her! Oh, how she loved him! She couldn't wait to see him again. But for now she would wait, as Armand turned and knocked on the door…

_Thy kingdom come… Thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven…_

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Lucienne wheezed as he struggled to breathe, those skeletal, long, ruthless fingers of death wrapping more firmly around his neck. He realized that his only chance to survive was to try to strike Erik on his wound. Lucienne flung his hand toward Erik's chest, but Erik easily deflected the blow, while holding on to Lucienne's neck, his eyes ruthless, as he glowered mercilessly at the man struggling to breathe. Just a little more pressure, a little more…and that wretch would be dead…

"Ah, you have no idea how much I want to kill you, right here, right now," Erik stated solemnly. With that Erik deflected another blow with his free hand, which Lucienne tried to aim at his wound.

"Ned," Erik called, "please tie Lucienne up. I have no patience for his insipid so-called defensive blows. And I'm most unpleasant when I'm annoyed."

Ned proceeded to tie Lucienne's hands together behind his back. When that was done, Erik, not taking his eyes off the wheezing Lucienne, continued to Ned, " Open the door. Lucienne and I are going to take a little walk outside." He now directed his words at the marquess. "Aren't we, Lucienne?" Erik's fingers moved along the pressure points in Lucienne's neck. "You're going to be a good sport and tell the guards to open the gates and step aside. Anyone interferes and you're dead," Erik warned.

Ned made to move to the door to open it and make his demands, when Lucienne breathlessly replied, "I'm going to die anyway," a wheezing breath. "Why…why should I help you. At least now… we will go down together," another wheezing breath. "I will not…tell the guards to move aside-"

Erik's grip tightened on Lucienne's neck, rendering Lucienne unable to speak anymore. Erik smiled, that grotesque smile, a smile that looked ugly and deadly, and there was a crazed look in his glowing eyes.

"My dear Lucienne, it's not whether you die or not. It's how you die."

Erik left the rest to the man's imagination. Ned, who was waiting at the door, took the ensuing silence as a sign to proceed. He opened the door abruptly and slunk to the side of the door as the startled guards came rushing in, only to stop dead in their tracks before the sight that greeted them. It was a sight they wouldn't soon forget. A bloodied monster was holding their master by the neck, before him. They could see the monster's face and he was sneering at them, while their master's back was turned to them. The guards shuddered at the sight.

"Move aside or he dies," the voice said from beside their ears, an eerie, deadly voice, a bodiless voice. The guards jumped in shock, looking around for the source of the voice, their eyes wide with fear, before looking back at the ghostly monster.

"NOW!" the voice boomed inside their heads, as Erik's eyes blazed even more. The guards turned around and ran out, leaving the door open for them to move out.

And it was after Erik, Ned and Lucienne had left the estate, that the word spread… the Marquess had been taken by a ghost…a phantom…the angel of death… never to be seen again…

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Raoul returned at the early hours of dawn, having searched all the roads around his estate. It was as if Christine and Meg had vanished. And now exhausted and tired, Raoul saw the folly of his impulsiveness. In his worry and desire to find them…_to find her_…_Christine_…he had forgotten to inform the police as any level-headed person would have done from the onset of the discovery of them missing. The driver opened the door for him and a very tired Raoul emerged from his carriage. He dragged himself up the stairs to the entrance of his house. The butler opened the door and brightened in the instant he saw his master, informing him that a gentleman was waiting for him in his study, with important news.

Raoul sighed and headed to his study, his heart thudding in his chest, as he wondered if this had anything to do with Christine and Meg's disappearance. Opening the door, Raoul was shocked to see Armand waiting for him inside. The man looked calm, as he related the good news to Raoul, telling Raoul that he had found both women having a walk in the gardens for some fresh air, since one of them, feigning to have forgotten who, wasn't feeling very well. When Raoul made to call for a doctor to be brought, Armand hurried to assure him that the ladies were both fine, and that they just needed rest after a long and trying day. And that Raoul should let them rest.

Deflated of all his worries, Raoul took a deep, relieved breath, whispering a silent prayer of thanks. He decided that tomorrow he would have a talk with Christine and make sure that everything was all right.

_And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. _

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It was a glorious morning; Christine awoke revived, feeling lighter and better. The knowledge that Erik hadn't abandoned her eased her worries. It was as if a load had been removed from her shoulders. The night before, the maids had helped her into her nightgown.

She had placed her father's box and the key on the table by her bedside, and sunk into the pillows to sleep. For some reason she had been afraid of opening the box just then, opting to sleep and rest instead. She decided she had plenty of time on the morrow to open the box and find its secrets. She had felt so tired and every muscle in her body had ached; it really had been a long and exhausting day. Due to her exhaustion, she had quickly fallen asleep. But now, this new day, Christine thought with a slight smile, as she yawned and stretched, it was wonderful.

She could feel the warm rays of the light on her face, the maids had probably entered her room and opened the windows, she realized. The breeze was cool. It was going to be a good day, Christine decided, as she moved to the edge of the bed, putting the covers aside. She sat up, placing her feet on the carpeted floor. Finding her slippers, she put them on, grabbed her robe and stood up as she donned it and tied it over her thin night gown.

Yawning, Christine made to finish her morning rituals. Behind the dressing screen, she got dressed; a maid helped her with the lacings. She then brushed her hair and tied it in a ponytail with a yellow ribbon. The maids had offered to brush her hair for her, but Christine had politely refused.

Taking a deep breath, she walked out of her room and down the hall. She started down the grand staircase… once on the bottom floor she made her way to the dining room. She knew that Raoul would be waiting for her.

"Christine!" Raoul said brightly, his voice filled with relief, as if he couldn't believe his eyes, that she was well and unharmed. He rose from his chair and walked to her, taking her hands in his and bringing them up to his mouth. He kissed her knuckles gently and then said in a low, slightly scolding voice, "Don't you ever scare me like that again."

Christine smiled sheepishly. "I'm really sorry about that. I shouldn't have done so." She didn't say more, because she didn't want to lie and say that she was taking a walk with Meg.

Taking her hand, Raoul placed it in the crook of his arm and led her to her chair, which was on his right side. He was sitting at the head of the table.

"We'll talk after breakfast," he said as he moved away from her and pulled out the chair for her. Christine was grateful for the reprieve; at least she would have more time to think.

A few moments later, Meg entered, relaxed and rested. Raoul pulled out a chair for her as well, which was on his left side. Then he sat in his chair at the head of the table. Holding a small bell in his fingers, he raised his hand slightly and rang the bell. Christine watched intrigued as the servants came bustling in with trays of food and drink.

Christine's mouth watered, she was going to sample every one of those dishes. Her stomach rumbled - she realized she had barely eaten anything the day before, and after all her exertions, she felt famished. But remembering the proper ways of eating she had been taught, she realized that a lady didn't just gobble up food. She knew that she had to eat slowly and delicately. Christine frowned as she looked at the delicious food placed in her plate. Why, surely, they wouldn't blame a famished soul for eating enthusiastically, she thought a bit annoyed and embarrassed.

"Are you going to eat?"

Raoul's question startled her, and Christine noticed that she had been stupidly staring at her full plate. She looked up at Raoul, the color rising in her cheeks.

"Yes…I…" she trailed off, embarrassed. She quickly picked up her fork and took a bite of the food.

They sat there eating and drinking their coffee in silent companionship, reveling in the calm and peaceful atmosphere. Only a footman disrupted them once, bringing in the newspaper for the Vicomte. Raoul thanked him and took the paper. Christine didn't care much for the news. She buttered her toast and took a bite, reveling in its taste and wondering how much more she would enjoy breakfast, if she were sharing it with Erik.

Raoul was reading over the newspaper, when a title in big bold letters caught his attention. As he read the lines, he could scarcely believe it. The fork fell from his hands and hit his plate with a loud "_Thunk". _

The sound of Raoul's fork hitting the plate in front of him jerked Christine's attention back. She looked at Raoul, realizing that he had paled and was almost gaping at something he was reading. She placed her toast on her plate and wiped her hands with her napkin. She licked her lips in nervous anticipation and waited with a mixture of curiosity, surprise and dread for Raoul to say something.

Meg was just as shocked; her cup of coffee was half way to her mouth, her hand frozen as she watched Raoul.

"Well, what is it?" Christine asked, unable to bear the tension a minute longer.

Raoul's attention snapped back to the ladies, as he lowered the newspaper and cleared his throat. He didn't want to upset them but it was too late now, after his reaction, he thought resignedly. Plus, they would know sooner or later, if not from him then from all the gossip.

He rubbed his hand on his jaw, his eyes filled with apprehension, as if he were searching for the right words to say. Christine's uneasiness escalated. Dropping his hand, he looked at both Christine and Meg as he said, "I'm afraid it's somewhat of shocking news. Do you remember there was a man I wanted to introduce you to, Christine?" Raoul asked.

Christine nodded, her throat becoming dry.

"Well," Raoul started slowly. "It would appear that the Marquess has disappeared. Late last night, he was kidnapped from his high security residence in the suburbs of Paris."

Meg and Christine shared a look, before turning their attention back to Raoul as he went on. "It appears that his kidnapper is some sort of ghost-monster thing." Running his hand through his golden hair, he continued, "The guards swear that the man had some supernatural power. And that he had the face of a monster."

Meg's cup of coffee slammed hard on the table, sloshing some of the coffee on the table cloth. In her shock, she didn't realize what she had done, until the loud sound of clanging stopped Raoul's words. Raoul looked at Meg with a bit of surprise, and then assumed that her reaction was because she had never been exposed to bad news about killings. Christine's eyes were huge and Raoul noticed that she had become very still and very pale.

"D-do they know what happened to the Marquess? D-did anyone die?" Meg asked slowly, softly, trying to keep her voice as calm as possible.

Christine was crushing the napkin in her hand, her heart hammering with worry and dread. Her knuckles turned white from the pressure. She heard Raoul reply to Meg, "No one knows the Marquess' fate," Raoul replied gravely. "But there have been several deaths," Raoul nodded regretfully. "Yes, indeed, it was a terrible sight. Several men, who are believed to have worked for the Marquess, were found dead, nearby the Marquess' residence."

Meg shuddered, and Christine's breath caught in her throat.

"Are they sure that this-this man is d-deformed?" Christine asked, her voice coming out trembling and shrill.

Raoul turned to her and realization dawned upon him. Of course she was frightened, and like an idiot he had told her that the man had been a monster. Hadn't Lucienne told him that she had been kidnapped by a monster? He should have realized from the beginning - that was why she was so upset.

He gently pried her death-like grip from the napkin and took both her trembling hands in his own as he replied gently, soothingly, "Oh, Christine, do forgive me. I had forgotten that that monster kidnapped you. But rest assured, he will not harm you, not as long as I have breath left in me."

Christine stiffened at his words and her confusion soon dissolved into shock. He thought that Erik had mistreated her? He knew that she had been with Erik? When in truth her fear was for Erik, and deep down it was for herself and what she might discover about Erik and his past. She tried to pull her hands from his but he gently increased the pressure of his grip, holding her tighter so that she couldn't removed her hands from his.

Christine looked up at him and replied cautiously, "I was never harmed, Raoul. And the man I was with was no monster at all," she said softly, her eyes filling with tears. "He was an Angel."

"Was he alone?" Meg asked, cutting into the conversation, her voice shaking and filled with worry.

Raoul turned to look at Meg. Keeping Christine's hands in his, he replied, "Apparently he had an accomplice. No one knows who the man is."

Meg jerked out of her chair, holding on to her composure by a thread.

"If you'll excuse me," she said, choking back tears, hardly believing what was happening. She turned around and all but ran from the dining room. When she reached the stairs, she finally allowed herself to run. Meg ran up to her room, opened the door and slammed it shut and locked it behind her. She made her way to her bed, threw herself down upon it and started to cry. She didn't care what happened to the Marquess. As a matter of fact, a part of her was relieved; she hoped that he was dead. But why had they killed those men? They were probably just guards doing their job. Just the idea of killing…it chilled her.

"Whatever is the matter with her?" Raoul asked Christine, as she finally was able to disentangle her hands from his.

"I-I don't know,' Christine managed a brittle smile. "It's just that so many things have happened in such a sort time. You understand, of course. It's a bit hard for us."

"I know," he replied. Only he didn't know, not at all, Christine thought bitterly

"I'm not feeling very well. I believe I shall retire to my room for some rest," she said. Before Raoul could stop her, Christine quickly arose from her chair and hurried out of the dining room. She needed to have a good cry herself. She didn't care for what happened to that vile man, Lucienne. But the idea of Erik being a cold-blooded killer, that was something that she had never wanted to learn about…or know…

_And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil… Amen_


	20. Chapter 20

**Hello everyone, the new chapter is ready. It is a longer chapter (to make up for the long wait!), and a big part of the truth is reveal in this one. The circumstances of Gustav Daae's death and how he was involved will all be made clear in this one. So now you have a fairly clear picture of the past and what happened. I know that I usually open the chapters with a small letter from Christien to the Angel of music, but this chapter opens with the letter from Gustav to his daughter Christine. I also couldn't keep Erik and Christine apart for much longer! Hope that you'll enjoy. Long Live Phantom!**

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** Chapter Twenty: (The De Chagny Estate) Part Four**

My dearest Christine,

My little princess, I know that by the time you read this, I will be dead. Please forgive me. I know that I promised to come back for you, but even though I know that there's a good chance I won't be able to return to you, know that I will always be with you. I know and trust that the Sisters at the Convent will take good care of you. Christine, my heart, there are things which I haven't told you, things that you are too young to understand. But I trust that when Mother Superior gives you this box and this letter, you will be old enough to know.

I have left papers here that prove that Lucienne is a criminal. But I suppose that I should start from the beginning.

Never doubt that your mother and I loved each other very much. When we married, I had nothing to offer her but a small house by the sea in Sweden. Yet she never complained, she was happy and she made me happy, too. She was my world, my life. I only hope that you can one day find a love like that. You know that I played the violin and sometimes I would leave your mother for weeks on end, traveling with the fair, playing to earn money, so that we could have food on the table.

When we learned that you were coming, your mother and I were overjoyed. With the joy came the knowledge that we couldn't continue living the way we were. I knew that I couldn't leave your mother alone for such long periods of time anymore. Even a week was too long. And to tell you the truth, I had become very frustrated with our living arrangements. I didn't want to be parted from my beautiful Marie. We both came to the agreement that I would leave off playing the violin and find another position, one that would be close by and wouldn't require my leaving for long periods of time.

I found work in a stables, taking care of the horses. It wasn't a particularly nice job or a profitable one, but it was enough to keep food on the table. I was happy because I could return home every evening and be with you and Marie. The day you were born was one of the happiest days of my life. You were so little, so beautiful, you wrapped me around your little finger with one smile.

When you turned two, Marie's mother died, leaving Marie everything she owned. We were surprised to learn that Marie now owned an old estate in France. Once belonging to Marie's ancestral family, it had been abandoned for a long time. The house seemed like an answer to our prayers. The stable work was getting very tiring for me and I had started to suffer from back pains. Now we had a solution, we would move to Paris. I could play the violin in an Opera house. Your mother and you could accompany me when I went to perform. It was the perfect plan and Marie and I were overjoyed. We would soon start a new and better life - the three of us together, always a family.

We had no worries about the condition we'd find the house in, in Paris, for we were sure that we could repair and furnish it and that it would become a suitable home. When we arrived at that old, abandoned estate, we were also relieved to learn that it was close to the Opera house in Paris, half an hour by carriage. It was the perfect place, or so we thought.

So we began to repair and furnish it. When we were fixing the house though, several accidents happened, but we paid no attention to them, little did we know that they were sabotage attempts. A man approached us several times, asking to buy the house from us. But we refused, for this was to be our dream home, and we didn't want to sell it. At the time, we thought him just enthusiastic; little did we know that he worked for Lucienne.

It was after we had moved in, nearly a year later, and settled down in the house, that we started to notice that strange things seemed to be happening around, and, it seemed, beneath the house! At night we would hear noises. Marie would often wake scared. At first, I thought there were large rats in the basement. After inspecting the basement several times and finding no rats, I began to doubt. You would come into our room every night, having been woken by the strange noises, and you would huddle between me and Marie and sleep there.

I didn't know what to think, the noises seemed to be coming from under the ground in our house. I didn't want my Marie to be apprehensive and nervous. I knew that I had to find out what was going on. Now I wish that I had not listened to your mother, I wish that I had just sold the house, took the money and bought another house. Perhaps your mother would be alive today.

Looking back on it, I will never forget that day, exactly six months after we had moved in. I had had enough; I was going to find out the truth. It was noon time; I knew that no one would be there, for the sounds seemed to come only during the night. I went out and started looking at the gardens to see if there was a door in the ground that led to a basement that perhaps we didn't know about. I did find a door, in the backyard, covered with soil and grass. If I hadn't stepped on it and felt the door give a few inches beneath my feet, I wouldn't have known it was there. I stepped back and crouched down to open the door, which seemed to have been out of use for a while. But instead of finding a secret basement, I found an entire underground network. Tunnels, paths, leading to the sewers. I even heard voices. To make a long story short, they mistook me for one of the new workers. They gave me a bundle to transport to the waiting wagons, at the end of one of the long dark tunnels. I wisely remained silent. Inside, I was shocked, for it seemed as if someone was running an entire business, and apparently its main premises existed beneath our house!

I secretly slunk away and made my way back out, through the same door I had entered in our backyard. When Marie learned of what I had discovered and saw the bundle that I carried, she told me to take it to the police; they could open it and tell us what it was. Later that day, I was further shocked when the police told me that it was opium. Only, instead of them believing my story, which I admit must have sounded very far fetched to them, they arrested me! They were convinced that I knew who was behind the operation. So they struck a bargain with me, if I would help them capture the main culprit, then I would be free of all charges. If not, I was to be arrested and thrown in jail. I couldn't leave your mama and you. I loved you both too much, and the real culprit had to pay. It seemed the chief magistrate at the time had had several leads pointing to a very important man, his name, I was told was "Lucienne De Barbezac", a Marquess no less. When the chief magistrate learned that I played the violin, a plan was set into place. For to bring down Lucienne, they needed solid proof, which I was to find.

When I returned that night to the house, I told Marie about everything. We sold the house, as the police had instructed us to do. The same man who had offered to buy the house several times before, offered to buy it once more, and we sold it to him. We moved into a smaller house, but a newer one and at least we had peace then. We couldn't return to Sweden because the chief magistrate had put a block on us on all French borders, to ensure that I stayed to help with this "national case", as he called it. I also obtained a position at the opera house, the police had told the manager of the opera house to hire me, no questions asked. Soon, however, the manager was so impressed with my skills that I became an integral part of the orchestra. You see, the chief magistrate made sure that I was part of that orchestra, in that opera house, because the Marquess was known for having extravagant parties, and for always hiring this particular orchestra, which he seemed to have a special liking for, to play. So the plan was put into action.

You had just turned four, such a beautiful girl, filled with life, and curiosity about the world and everything in it. The chief magistrate contacted me as the time had finally come for the plan to be put into action. It was the night that changed our lives forever. I played with the orchestra at the Marquess's estate and then managed to easily sneak away to other parts of the house during the orchestral break, for refreshments and relaxation. To get to the point, I found what they wanted me to find, call it destiny, a stroke of luck, or providence, to tell you the truth I am not sure. But what I do know is that I found the office, it reeked of alcohol. The Marquess must have imbibed a good amount of it. Drunk, he must have left his office, forgetting to lock the important drawers of his desk. I found all the papers that would prove him guilty. I quickly stashed them into the inner pockets of my jacket and rushed out of there.

It wasn't long before Lucienne found out that the papers were missing. To this day, I do not know how he knew that it was me who took them. How quickly he came after me! When I returned that night, I held Marie close to me, and we snuggled close to each other, feeling peace in knowing that our troubles were almost over. I had gotten the proof which was needed and early next morning I would give it to the police. But that was not to be, for someone must have seen me sneak in and out of Lucienne's office. It was four in the morning when I heard the first shot. Both Marie and I were startled, and you had woken up and were crying in your bed. Marie rushed to your room, and I ran down the stairs getting our shot gun from the basement, for someone was beating fiercely on the door. I opened the door, only to see the chief magistrate fall dead at my feet. I slammed the door shut and knew that somehow I had been found out, they would kill us all and most probably burn the papers that proved their guilt.

It was the night your mother died.

I took both of you to the basement, and told her to stay with you until it was over. But Marie was a strong woman, who would not let me face all that danger alone. She left you there in the basement, you had fallen asleep. She came from the basement, holding the other gun we had in her hand and placed herself at the window on my other side. I did not have time to scold her; I was busy trying to keep us alive, and somewhat relieved for her help, though worried as well. Marie was shot.

Talking about it has always been very hard for me. She died in my arms. But before her last breath, she made me promise to take you to safety. I wanted to kill them all, but I couldn't, because I knew that I had to get you out of there, safe. I took you, and the papers I had found, and ran. I didn't even have time to bury your mother. I knew that the police would find her the next day. I will never forgive myself for being such a coward.

We crossed the borders to Sweden, without much difficulty, for I had learned of an old, abandoned, much less traveled route, which was very loosely watched. We stayed in Sweden for four years - I suppose you remember meeting that lad De Chagny? But while you thought that I was happy, I was dying inside. Everyday I felt like more of a coward. I hope that you can understand and forgive me, I had to return to Paris. I had to do my best to see that the bastard who was responsible for Marie's death was caught and thrown into prison where he belongs. So we returned to Paris. You thought it so exciting.

Now that I've left you in the convent, I can rest assured that you will be safe. I have placed the original papers that prove Lucienne's guilt in this box and I have taken copies with me. I shall bring him down, my little Christine. He shall pay for all the pain and hurt that he has caused this family. Marie's death will not go unpunished. I only hope that you can forgive me. I have to do this and I hope that you can understand. Justice must prevail.

I love you, Christine, never forget that. And wherever I am, no matter how far or near, know that I am always with you. I have asked Madame Valarius, a good woman I met in the opera house - her husband was a fellow violinist - to be your guardian. When you are of age, you will be released from the convent and sent to her. I want you to have the best life, peaceful and prosperous, away from this whole dirty business.

I love you, Christine. Smile for me, little Lottie, just smile, and wherever I am, I'll be smiling too.

Lovingly, your father,

Gustav Daae

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Christine sat on her bed, feeling numb. It seemed as if her whole world was tilting upon its axis. The door to her room was locked. A maid had knocked and informed her that Raoul wanted to see her. She knew there was no way out of it, Raoul would want an explanation. How could she explain anything to Raoul, when she felt so lost inside.

Tears left their silent trails on her soft cheeks. She looked more like an ethereal statue, her face tilted toward the window, her cerulean eyes looking to the sky for guidance… a sign… anything, as light poured into her room. In her hand she held the letter…her father's last words to her. The envelope lay on the bed beside her and on the table by her side rested the box that her father had given her, the lid lying open. He had known that by the time she read it, he would be dead. Why had Erik kept the key from her for so long? Why hadn't he wanted her to read her father's last words to her? Had he somehow been involved in this with Lucienne at the time? He must have removed the papers that proved Lucienne's guilt, for they weren't there in the box.

And why would he remove such dangerous papers unless he were trying to cover for himself as well? Perhaps there was something that Erik hadn't wanted her to know. But then, another question taunted her. If Erik didn't want her to know, why would he leave the key for her in the first place? He must have known that her father would tell her the whole story in his letter. And how did Erik come upon the key in the first place?

Now many things seemed to make sense. Her father wasn't the only one who had been killed; her mother had been a victim of Lucienne's brutality as well. Now she knew why. But there were still explanations to be sought, and she would find out the rest. Her heart was breaking into a million pieces, shattered and torn at the possible answers and questions that haunted her.

"Oh, Erik," Christine whispered on a sob. The paper in her hand had become damp from her tears. With her free hand she covered her mouth to keep in the sobs that formed at her throat, as streams of tears continued to trickle down her cheeks like gentle rain.

The maid knocked again. "Miss? Miss, please, are you all right?" A pause. "The master is getting worried."

Christine fought to regain her composure. She quickly wiped the tears from her cheeks and took a deep soothing breath. She folded her father's letter and put it in the envelope. Turning her body toward the open box, she called out to the maid, "I am fine." She had wanted her voice to come out strong and confident, only it emerged soft and tremulous. As Christine put the letter back in the box and closed it, she continued, "I will be down in a moment. Please tell Raoul not to worry."

She rose and hurried to her vanity table to look at herself in the mirror.. Her eyes were puffy and red rimmed, Raoul would know that she had been crying. Christine sighed; there was nothing she could do about it. When Raoul asked, she would think up something to tell him.

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Raoul was in Phillipe's study, sitting in Phillipe's chair, silently hoping and praying that his brother was well, but after what had happened to Lucienne, Raoul was very doubtful that the monster might have spared his brother. If only there was something he could do to find his brother, or Lucienne, who seemed to know about his brother's disappearance.

And then there was Christine's odd behavior earlier that day at the table. Was she afraid of the monster? Of course she was! Raoul's thoughts replied. But there was something more, something that she and that girl named Meg were hiding, and Raoul knew that he would have to press Christine to tell him what it was if he was going to protect her, and try to find his brother. She would have to trust him. Raoul leaned back in his chair, his hands gripping the arm rests with force at the thoughts and worries that assaulted him. This whole thing with the monster, Lucienne, and his brother's possible relation to them reeked of danger and deception.

A knock sounded on the door, interrupting Raoul's train of thought. His hands relaxed on the arm rests as he called out, while raising one hand and pushing his hair back from his face, "Come in."

The door opened slowly and then a blond head peaked in. Raoul couldn't help smiling, his Christine was so beautiful. He watched her as she pushed the door wider and entered.

"You wanted to see me?" Christine asked politely

Raoul smiled. "Indeed." He pointed to the chair opposite his, on the other side of the desk and invited, "Please have a seat."

Christine walked toward the chair that Raoul had indicated and sat down. She tried to calm herself, but her nerves were drawn taut, especially after reading her father's letter and her suspicions of Erik. Yet she still valiantly tried to prepare herself for the interrogation she knew was to come from Raoul, and to remain composed. So far it was working, and Christine was thankful for that. She needed to appear composed and reassured. She had to be strong, until she found out the truth.

"I know that you must be wary of me. I mean, after all, I brought you here without your consent. I have been thinking about everything that has happened so far, and it just doesn't seem to make much sense to me." Raoul looked at her, feeling and sensing the tension emanating from her posture, continuing in as soothing a tone as possible. "Christine, when we were little, we were very close friends, and I wish that you would trust me again as you did then. I know that this is very hard for you, but I need you to tell me everything that has happened to you. Where were you? When did that monster kidnap you? Did he ever send a ransom note to Lucienne? Or was it some personal vendetta he had against him?" Raoul stopped himself, realizing that he had asked many questions at once. He knew he must go slower, and that if he wanted to gain her trust then he should make his position clear to her first.

Christine's mind was reeling. She hadn't expected Raoul to be so direct with his questions, some of which confused her. Why would Erik ask for a ransom from Lucienne? Christine frowned before voicing her confusion. "Why would Erik ask for a ransom from Lucienne?"

Raoul gaped at her for a moment, before swallowing and clearing his throat, a flush appearing on his neck and making its way up his cheeks. He inspected his polished nails as he replied, afraid that if he looked at Christine she might see his jealousy, for he wanted her for himself, "Well, isn't Lucienne your betrothed? Surely 'Erik' as you called him, kidnapped you for ransom or some personal vendetta. What other reason could there be?"

He sounded as confused as Christine felt. When he chanced a look at Christine, he was surprised at the look of utter shock and horror that was drawn on her face.

"I am not his betrothed!" Christine gasped, as she rose from her chair. So tense was she that she couldn't sit still anymore. Her stomach had dropped to her knees and her heart drummed in her chest. Who had told Raoul those lies? Lucienne! The answer came to her in an instant. She placed one hand on the desk to support herself and the other on her heart as she tried to calm herself.

Raoul rose quickly from his chair and walked around the desk. Placing a supportive hand on Christine's shoulders, he said gently, "Please forgive me. I did not mean to upset you."

He gently guided her back to her chair and, before seating himself in the chair next to hers, he leaned forward and took her cold hands in his own. Gently, soothingly, he rubbed them between his palms to warm her and comfort her a little. She had turned so pale that he was afraid she would pass out.

"It's just that Lucienne said that you were his betrothed," Raoul replied softly in clarification, continuing to gently rub Christine's hands. He frowned, his hands stilled for a moment, his eyes met hers and he asked, "But if you aren't his betrothed, then what are you to him?"

Christine let Raoul hold her hands. All her fear was turning to anger, which Raoul could hear erupt now in her voice. "I am nothing to him but a pawn he can use to get to Erik. He lied to you, Raoul."

She pulled her hands away from Raoul and rose from her chair. Wrapping her arms around herself, she made her way to the open window and looked outside. It truly was a beautiful day. Christine took a moment to compose herself.

"Erik did not kidnap me, Raoul." Her voice was so low that Raoul almost didn't hear her reply, but since he had risen as well and was walking toward her, he heard. Turning to look Raoul in the eye, she continued softly but firmly, "He saved my life."

It was the second shock Raoul had gotten that day. As he opened his mouth to reply, the door to the study flew open, startling both Raoul and Christine. The footman entered, looking pale and anxious. His eyes were wide and filled with worry. "Monsieur Le Vicomte, please forgive the interruption, but there is someone outside who claims to know where Monsieur Le Comte is!"

"What?!" Raoul was making his way out of the door as the word left his mouth.

Christine was left alone as the footman excused himself, telling her that Raoul would be back shortly. He hurried out leaving the door open. Christine wondered if she should take the reprieve she'd been given to return to her room and try to compose herself. Was his brother missing? She hadn't known that Phillipe had gone missing.

As she turned to make her way out of Raoul's study, a hand clamped over her mouth and another wrapped around her waist. Christine's scream died in her throat as she struggled against the man's grip, only to feel her back hitting a firm surface, most probably his chest, she thought dazedly with fear.

"Don't scream," a voice whispered in her ear. "It's me, Ned."

Christine's struggles died down and Ned could feel her relaxing. He slowly removed his hand from her mouth and loosened his grip on her waist, so that she turned around, glaring at him.

"You scared me half to death!" she exclaimed in a low voice.

Ned brought his index finger up to his lips and shushed her. "We have no time. You must come with me at once."

Christine's eyes widened in surprise as she inquired, "Without Meg?"

"For now, yes. I'll come back for Meg." Ned held her arm gently and turned her toward the door, continuing in a hushed tone, "I don't have time to explain. Pretend to be going out to the gardens for a walk. Raoul is busy, he won't pay attention. I will meet you in the gardens by the fountain. Go now!"

Without thinking twice about it, Christine started toward the door, before coming to a stop at the open doorway. She turned around to ask Ned if Erik was well, but when she did there was no one in the study. Ned had already gone; Christine suspected he had left by the open window. Taking a deep breath, she smoothed her skirts, raised her chin and went to the kitchen's back door, telling the maids that she was going out for a small walk in the gardens. Once outside, Christine hurried toward the fountain. She stopped there, looked around but saw no sign of Ned. Had she imagined him? she wondered with dread for a moment, before he appeared from behind some bushes that lined the side of the fountain.

"So will you explain now?" Christine asked, a bit apprehensive. For the first time since she had met Erik, she wondered if she were doing the right thing, instead of trusting Raoul and staying inside.

He grabbed hold of her arm and led her around the fountain, to a small gate at the back of the De Chagny estate. The gate looked as if it had been abandoned for some time, shrubbery covering its old wooden frame. Ned pushed the door open and led Christine through the passage before going out and closing it behind him. They made their way through shrubbery and bushes, then circled around the De Chagny estate to one of the back roads. There a carriage was waiting. Ned opened the door and motioned for Christine to enter. She bit her lip for a moment searching Ned's face for any sort of explanation. Why wasn't Erik there? But his face was blank of any expression. Tentatively she stepped into the carriage and took a seat.

"Listen to me carefully, Christine. Erik is sick, very sick. His wound is inflamed. Don't ask me how he got it, it's a long story. I think he may have become feverish, too. Armand will take you to where Erik is. I am sure that they have taught you about healing wounds in the abbey?" He looked at her, despair and hope warring on his face

Christine's heart had stopped beating for a moment, her stomach was in knots, and she felt as if she were suffocating with worry. She knew that she couldn't break down and cry, she had to be strong for Erik. _Oh, God, he could die! _Instead, she replied calmly, though her voice shook,"Yes, they taught me about healing herbs and about several medications since I helped in tending sick or wounded people who were either found by the sisters or came to us for help. I had to learn those things in order to help out."

"Good," Ned replied with relief. He pointed toward the driver who was sitting at the front of the carriage. "Armand will help you in what ever you need. You just write the name of the herbs or medication you need and he will get it for you."\

Christine nodded, relieved that at least the driver was someone she knew, although not much, still it was better than being driven around by a complete stranger.

Ned closed the door, and the carriage rolled away. Christine looked out the window back at Ned, surprised that he hadn't ridden with her. She had thought that he would leave with her. Perhaps he was going for Meg after all. Christine leaned back in her seat and said a silent prayer. _Please, Lord, let Erik be well_. And it was then that a strong wave of guilt washed over her. While Erik had been out there doing what he must to protect her, she had been here doubting him. The papers that her father had left her would have brought Lucienne's wrath down upon her, but with Erik in possession of those papers, he had taken the danger away from her, to himself. Christine's breath caught in her chest at the revelation. Oh, how she loved him! And now she might lose him forever. Her hands trembled as she fought to remain calm. She wouldn't lose Erik, she told herself. She would be reunited with him and everything would be fine… it had to be…

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Meg lay sleeping on her side. Ned watched her silently, then gently touched her cheek, tracing the trail of a tear that had remained. She'd been crying and the knowledge made him angry. Whoever made her cry would pay! he thought, wanting to slam his fist into the bastard's face. He sat down on the bed beside her and she sighed, raising her hand to her cheek where his hand had been. Meg had felt someone touch her cheek, and when the hand was removed, she had felt the loss, cold and empty. She did not want to lose that feeling. She brought her hand up to her wet cheek and opened her eyes, as the knowledge that she must have been dreaming came to her. Her breath caught, her heart plummeted in her chest, as her sight settled on the face staring down at her. Ned covered her hand with his and moved it from her cheek to his mouth, gently kissing her knuckles.

"Ned," she exclaimed on a whisper, still hardly believing it. "What are you doing here? I…Oh, Ned!" and she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him fiercely. His arms swept around her and he held her close. He wanted to kiss her so badly, but he was afraid of making any abrupt move that might scare her. Fresh tears streamed down her face, as she continued frantically, "Oh, God, you're here! Please tell me that you didn't kill those guards. Tell me that you wouldn't kill anyone unless it's done in self defense. Please tell me." Her voice broke on another sob.

Ned knew with a sinking feeling that he had been the reason for her tears. Now he was angry with himself. "Hush, please don't cry," he said soothingly. "Just know that the men who brutalized you paid for what they did. Don't tell me that you sympathize with them?" he asked gently, as one of his hands came to rest on her hair as he buried his fingers in its raven strands.

Meg sniffled; seeming to calm down a bit, she lay her head on his shoulder by the crook of his neck. She replied softly, her throat dry and sore from crying, "No. I do not sympathize with those men."

Ned hugged her closer. "Good." He kissed her forehead tenderly, then whispered, "Meg, love, I need you to pack your things as quickly as possible." He pulled away from her, meeting her confused gaze. "I am taking you to your mother."

"Will you be coming with me, too? Or will you leave me there?" she asked, her heart twisted at the possibility that he would leave her again.

Ned seemed to consider for a moment, then replied with a grin, "Once we get your mother, we'll all be leaving to where Erik is. Your mother is a known healer, and we need her skills to save Erik." He gently touched her lips with his thumb. "I'm here with you, to stay."

Meg's heart soared at the declaration. He wasn't going to leave her again. She smiled up at him. And what she did next caught him by complete surprise. She sat up straight in the bed, looked into his eyes, raised her hands behind his neck and laced her fingers together. She gently pulled his head toward hers and pressed her rosy lips to his, giving him a small shy kiss. When she pulled away, she was surprised to see the intensity that had bloomed in his eyes. Without saying a word, he wrapped his arms around her and slowly, softly, brought her back to him. He bent down, his mouth but a mere inch from hers, and she trembled with anticipation and a bit of apprehension.

"I am going to kiss you, Meg. Please don't be afraid. I need to kiss you." His lips brushed her slightly parted ones. "Please let me kiss you." His lips brushed hers again. She could feel his warm breath, tingles shooting all through her body.

"Yes," she whispered, feeling conscious of his strong body pressed to hers, his arms wrapped around her waist. His lips gently came down on hers, tasting, then devouring. She imitated his movements, tasting him with her tongue as he tasted her. Both groaned with pleasure. It was as if they were one, breathing into each other, their hearts beating in unison. In the back of her mind, Meg knew that everything would be fine now. Somehow, when she had least expected it, love had found her. Suddenly, the world didn't seem so dreary anymore, but beautiful and full of life. For after all, she was in Ned's arms.

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Erik lay in a daze. His arm and chest throbbed so badly that he thought he would pass out. He felt as if someone had cut off his arm. If only his vision weren't so blurry… if only he could stay awake…if only he had been able to write down the names of the herbs and medication for Ned to get. As it was, it seemed that things had gone from bad to worse. The last thing Erik had expected when they returned with Lucienne in tow, was to feel so weak and dizzy, his arm throbbing so intensely that he had barely been able to hold on to Cesar's reigns. He vaguely remembered Ned asking him if he was well. He remembered Ned helping him down from atop Cesar. He also vaguely remembered trying to write down the names of the herbs and medications for Ned to get, but he hadn't been able to, since his vision at that point had become so blurry that he could barely see the paper.

Erik wondered where Ned had taken Lucienne. Too many thoughts assaulted him, and Erik groaned in pain as he tried to sit up. He didn't want to drift to sleep. Invisible hands of darkness seemed to be beckoning him with open arms. His bleary eyes fought to regain their focus; instead everything seemed to be spinning.

Ned had gone for help, and Erik wasn't sure how much time had passed. It didn't matter if it was days or hours, for to Erik it felt like years of agony, for the throbbing only seemed to be getting worse. He would have loved to empty the alcohol jug he carried with him in his saddle, but he had refrained for he wanted to remain awake and alert for as long as possible. Not to mention that he had poured the alcohol on his wound, and had blacked out for a moment from the pain.

He lay back down on the small bed in the cottage. Erik thought it ironic that he lay on the same bed where he had brought Christine that first night, when he had saved her from the fire. Memories assailed Erik's fogged mind. He remembered her smile, her beautiful eyes, her soft voice, her touch; would he ever see her again? He wondered, for he knew that if he caught fever because of his wound, it would be a bet whether he would survive or not. He already knew that the fever had started, but it wasn't raging yet. If only he could see Christine just one more time, Erik thought, before drifting off into a dreamless, agonizing slumber.

He heard the door open, he wanted to open his eyes, to get up to defend himself from an intruder, but he couldn't break free from the clutches of darkness. One moment he felt as if he were burning, only to feel chilled the next. It was agonizing. And he knew that someone had entered the cottage, but he lay helpless, and in pain…defenseless. He hated feeling defenseless. He hadn't felt that way ever since he was child… they were going to torment him now, that's all they did, his hazy mind informed him. Erik prepared himself for the pain, he grit his teeth, his breathing becoming shallow and more labored, but instead of the deep sting of pain he had expected to feel, he felt the gentle touch of a soft warm hand on his forehead. Who had dared to touch his face? Erik wondered. And then he heard her voice. It was her! His Angel had come for him! Or perhaps he was dead, and on his way to heaven. Erik wasn't sure which of the two scenarios he was in, but he didn't care. All that mattered was that she was there.  
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Christine had practically jumped out of the carriage when it had come to a stop before a cottage in the middle of nowhere. She had trembled as she had pushed the door open, afraid of what she might see inside. When her gaze had fallen upon Erik, her heart had twisted in her chest in worry and fear, tears had welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back. He was lying on the same bed she had been in that first night. Christine recognized the cottage, for how could she forget the place where she had first met Erik. It was still the same - small, rustic but fairly clean.

She rushed to Erik's bedside, and tentatively placed her hand on his forehead, as the realization that this was the first time she had ever touched Erik's unmasked face shook her to her core. She didn't feel disgust at his visage, although at first it caused her to cringe a little. Instead she saw Erik, her Angel of music, the man who had protected her with his own life. He was hot to the touch and Christine knew with a sinking feeling that the fever had begun. His shirt was bloodied.

"Erik?" she whispered. She knelt by the bed and allowed her hand to drift down from his forehead to trace his deformed features, to keep them memorized. She lovingly touched every inch of his deformed skin, and then rose a little and bent forward to kiss his forehead. Her soft rosy lips traveled down to his eyelids as she gently kissed them one by one. She pressed her lips to his. He mumbled something which Christine didn't understand the first time, but then she realized he was saying her name, in a low, strained voice. She almost wept, for even though he was very sick, his voice was still as beautiful as ever.

"I'm here," she whispered lovingly in reply. Erik was sure that he was dreaming, or hallucinating.

Christine stood up, knowing that there was no time to waste. She would save Erik no matter what…if only she could remember the names of the herbs. Christine grabbed her skirts with her hands, making fists in the linen, as she fought to remain calm and composed. She bit her lower lip, said a little prayer and called out for Armand.

Armand, having just parked the carriage, opened the door at the moment that Christine called out for him.

"Yes, my lady, how may I help?" he asked anxiously, his eyes moving from Erik to her large, watery, worried ones.

"I need a piece of paper and a pen first," Christine said urgently, as she started to look around frantically.

Armand seemed to know exactly where the parchment was. He walked toward an old wooden cupboard, opened it, revealing a large supply of papers and pens. He gave her one of each. Christine thankfully took the parchment and began to write the names of the herbs that she still remembered that would help Erik. Herbs to help both reduce fever and decrease inflammation. She also wrote the name of a medication which she knew would help. Of course, the best way to heal Erik was to summon a doctor. She stopped writing and look at Armand. "You're going to need to fetch a doctor," she said firmly, knowing that was their best chance of saving Erik.

Armand shook his head regretfully and replied gently, "I'm afraid I can't do that, my lady. I'm under strict orders."

"But I'm not sure how much I can help him!" Christine exclaimed in desperation, tears filling her eyes.

Armand surprised her when he stepped forward and placed a soothing hand on her shoulder. Looking her in the eyes, he said in all sincerity, "I am sure that you are the only one who can help him the most. He needs you, and you love him."

Christine swallowed hard and returned to writing down what they needed. Needle and thread, for she knew from the sight of blood on his shirt that she might need to stitch a wound. She had always helped the sisters, even though the sight of blood had made her queasy, but she had pushed on, telling herself that human life was much more important than her silly discomfort with the sight of blood. But now, it was even more important and much scarier, for she loved Erik with all her heart and soul, and she really didn't know how she would ever survive without him. She would have to do more than her best, and hope that her love, prayers, and limited skills would be enough to save him.

When she was done writing down the list of things she needed, she handed the paper to Armand who nodded, turned and left the cottage. He released one of the horses from the carriage and rode him, to make faster time. For time at this point was of immeasurable value.

Left alone, Christine turned to where Erik lay, now as still as death. Taking a deep breath, and fighting all her fears and worries, she pulled the covers down to his waist. The shirt he was wearing was unbuttoned. She pushed it aside to reveal Erik's chest. Christine's breath caught, this was the first time that she was seeing Erik's bare chest, and it wasn't at all what she had imagined. He had a well built chest, strong like the man himself, although he was thin. What broke her heart, and took her by surprise, were all the small scars that zigzagged over his chest, stomach and abdomen. Her sight fell on the big fresh wound on his shoulder which ran a few inches down his upper left arm as well. Christine brought her shaking hand to his wound to inspect it; she was blinded by her tears now. She let her tears fall down her cheeks in order for her vision to clear. She blinked hard to stop the tears and was somewhat relieved to realize that this was a flesh wound. If she could just get the fever and the inflammation under control…

Unbeknownst to her, a tear rolled down her cheek and fell to rest near the wound she was inspecting. Erik stirred a little and frowned. He knew he had been dreaming about Christine, but now someone was inspecting his wound, and even though her touch was soft, it was still painful, for his wound was very tender. She - he wondered for a moment, inside his feverish haze, how he knew it was a she. Ah, yes, now he remembered, it was his Christine. Perhaps she had come to take him to the other shore? But then he felt a drop of what seemed like water fall on his chest, next to his wound, followed by another and another. One fell on his lower lip and Erik involuntarily licked it, surprised that it was salty. He tried to wake himself. He tried to speak, to open his eyes, but he couldn't. And yet he knew that his Angel was crying for him.

Erik moaned painfully. Christine noticed him stir. She removed her hands from his wounds and instead cupped his cheek.

"It will be all right. I'm here. I will never leave you again." She sniffled and, intertwining their fingers, held his hand as she continued. "No matter how much you insist, you will never get rid of me. I am staying here with you, and you will stay here with me. I forbid you to leave. Do you hear me, Erik? I love you!" She brought his hand to her lips and kissed it.

It was in that moment that Erik's eyes finally snapped open and came to rest on her face with a fierce blazing gaze. Christine gasped in surprise, he was awake! "Christine," he rasped, yet his voice still sounded beautiful. A small smile formed on his thin lips, as he said with a hint of amusement, despite his pain and exhaustion, "I never knew you were so bossy."

Christine laughed through her tears, his comment taking her by complete surprise. She raised her chin and tried to reply just as playfully, but her voice emerged tremulous and tearful, though she injected a haughty tone into it. "Well, NOW you do," she informed him, bringing his hand to her heart where he could feel its rapid beating.

He weakly brought his other hand up and traced Christine's tear streaked cheeks. "It will get worse, before it gets better," he said gently, already feeling the chills start. One moment he was burning, the next he was shivering. He knew that this moment of clarity he was sharing with Christine now would not last for long. For the fever had only just begun. He placed his free hand back at his side. The simple act of touching Christine's cheek had exhausted him. Locking his eyes with hers, he managed to smile again.

"But know this," he continued in a tired but reassuring voice, "I will never leave you. We'll get through this together." He squeezed her hand gently where their fingers were intertwined, in reassurance.

"Together," Christine repeated softly, feeling his grip on her hand loosen as he drifted back into darkness again.

Together…


	21. Chapter 21

**Hello everyone, the new chapter is finally here! I'm so sorry for the delay. I hope that you will enjoy this new chapter. **

**Now when I write the first time (love scene) between Erik and Christine, would you like me to write it in a PG-13 rating, or M rating? I would love to have your thoughts on this. Also how far would you like me to go with the Ned/Meg relationship? **

**And finally, I want to thank you guys for your patience, and for not giving up on this story. **

**Long Live Phantom!**

* * *

**Chapter 21: (The Cottage) Part Two**

_Dear Angel of Music,_

_Last night was one of the longest nights of my life. Sister Luisa hasn't been feeling well for a while, and yesterday the doctor stated that she will not live much longer. He said that she has consumption. But I can't accept that. Sister Luisa was the one who held me in the days after I learned of Papa's death. She was the one who pushed me to go on. She is like a second mother to me._

_Why, Angel? Why does everyone I love, leave me? Is it me? Am I somehow cursed? Everyone I care for ends up getting hurt one way or the other, and yet I am always spared. Why? I don't want to be spared! I am so tired, so very tired._

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Phillipe managed to slowly open his eyes. Everything was bleary and he felt exhausted. What a grand view he saw - a tapestry of stars shone silently, like diamond tears, watching over him in the arms of the never-ending universe, there just out of reach. Phillipe's dazed mind began to focus… Where was he? There were sounds of men chatting, and he could smell smoke, _a fire? _Without thinking he turned his head to the side, to inspect his surroundings. Big mistake as a sharp pain pierced his skull and the world spun out of focus before his tired eyes. He groaned in pain and his eyes drifted closed as he tried to contain the agony. He didn't know how much time had passed, but when the pain had subsided to bearable, Phillipe realized with a start that the voices had died down. Had he just imagined the sounds of men talking? Was he really outside in the open? Or had he just imagined that tapestry of stars? He could still smell the pungent smoke. Then he heard a few whispers, this time very close, as if coming from above him… no, he hadn't imagined it.

"Is he waking up?" "Shut up." "Maybe we should kick him awake."

Phillipe heard snippets of whispered phrases…Who were these men? Gathering all his strength, he opened his eyes to see a group of men looking down at him. He didn't recognize the faces but there was something familiar about them. The last he remembered he had been at the door of an abandoned church.

"Who the hell are you?" he rasped. In that moment his sight fell on Joseph Bouquet and there was no need for an answer now, he knew…

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"Where is Christine?" Raoul shouted at his staff, who stood in front of him, heads bowed. "You good-for-nothing idiots!" Raoul spat, his frustration mounting with everything that had happened. First this man who had appeared from nowhere claiming to know where Phillipe was, now this… apparently, it had all been just a distraction so that someone would get Christine. She had been kidnapped from right under his nose. He felt angry with himself - and his naivety - when it came to these matters. God only knew where Phillipe was at this moment, and Christine was now in danger as well. The staff started talking all at once, saying that they knew nothing.

"Enough!" Raoul shouted, ordering them to silence. "One at a time" His gaze roamed the staff, assessing them one by one. The Cook, a rather staunch motherly older woman, said, "That's all we know, Monsieur. The last I saw her, she said she was going out for a walk."

That just didn't make any sense to Raoul. He had left her in the middle of a conversation, and he had told her to wait for him, or had he? In all the chaos he couldn't remember what he had told her. In both cases, it still didn't make any sense. With a wave of his hand, Raoul dismissed the staff, disheartened. This was all his fault; he should have been more careful…The gathering of workers began to disperse. As Raoul turned to go to the study to think and await the arrival of the chief of police, his sight fell on the Gardener, a lanky old man, who was still standing there, his hat in his hands. He looked very nervous. Raoul turned his full attention to the man, his gaze sharp. "What is it?"

The Gardener's startled eyes met Raoul's. "Well, it's just that I… I saw her by the fountain, and - " he hesitated for a moment.

"Go on," Raoul urged him impatiently.

"Well," the man swallowed. "She wasn't alone. I saw her with a man - I don't know who he is. I've never seen him before."

Raoul paled and worry etched his features. "Did he hurt her? Was he dragging her?"

"No, Sir," the old man replied. "He was talking to her as if they knew each other. So I didn't pay a lot of attention to it."

"Damn it!" Raoul took an angry step toward the man, ready to shake him. "And why didn't you tell me this before?"

The old man replied with a hint of guilt in his voice. "I thought" - and to Raoul's surprise the old man was blushing - "I thought she was on some secret rendezvous, my Lord. I like Mademoiselle Daee. I didn't want to feed any gossip about her, especially something like this that could affect her reputation. I didn't want to say anything in front of the maids."

Raoul took a deep breath and then said in a calm voice, "You did the right thing. This stays between you and me. Now, tell me any details you might remember about this man. We will need all the information we can get to give the chief of police. Anything might help."

And with that, Raoul turned toward his study, gesturing for the old man to follow.

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Christine dipped the cloth in the cold clean water and gently placed it on Erik's forehead. She had washed his wound as best she could and was still waiting for Armand to return…_What was taking him so long?_ Erik had stirred a little but other than that, he had remained asleep. After inspecting his wound a second time, Christine realized that it was not a flesh wound after all, but something much more serious. The last thing she needed was this added worry. It seemed as if what had started as a flesh wound had been torn deeper. Christine could only deduce that he had done more damage to his wound during some sort of a fight - a physical exertion that was the most plausible explanation and the most probable one, too. And it was something that she had opted not to think of in the meantime.

Christine blinked hard to keep her eyes open; she was tired and she was afraid. She just wanted to be in Erik's arms again. The floor creaked beneath her feet every time she rose to refill the water basin, or just walk a little to revive the circulation in her legs, shoulders and back. Now, as she sat uncomfortably in the chair by his bed, Christine prayed for Armand to come back quickly. She caressed Erik's forehead, running her fingers through his black hair. He was hot to the touch, which she knew wasn't a good sign; it meant that fever was ravaging him.

"Oh, Erik," Christine whispered. "You've turned me into a watering pot!" Her voice broke on a startled mixture of a laugh and a sob, before getting her voice under control and wiping the tear that had rolled down her cheek. She softly continued on a lighter note. "Not that I'm blaming you, but I have cried these past few weeks more than I have cried in my entire life. So…" Christine leaned forward and brought her face closer to his, whispering in his ear, "you're going to have to make it up to me once you're better. I expect to laugh a lot." She smiled weakly, pressing her soft cheek against his ravaged one.

The door slammed open, causing Christine to jump back from where she was leaning intimately over Erik. She stood up and whirled around, only to be met with Armand, who quickly walked in.

"Please forgive me," he said in a hurry as he laid the bags he held in his hands on the table. "I had to be very careful."

Christine rushed to the bags, opening them to look inside at the contents. A sigh of relief escaped her. She turned to look at him, holding up two vials in her hand. "Well, don't just stand there, come and help me," she said.

Armand moved to her side. "What must I do?"

Christine pointed to the herbs in the bag. "Mix these together and boil them into a tea." She was walking toward Erik as she finished her sentence. "Oh! But I don't even know if there is a stove in the kitchen!" she said with dawning terror, almost dropping the vials from her shaking hands.

"There is a stove in the kitchen. Nothing to worry about," Armand hurried to reassure her from where he was standing mixing the herbal contents of the vials into a glass. Christine laughed, trying to ease the tension and worry that was eating at her but her laugh came out shaky and brittle. She blinked back tears as she sat down on the wooden chair by Erik's bedside and placed the vials on the small table by the bed, so as to open them one by one. As she worked, she spoke to get her mind a bit off her worry. "I suppose you think I'm half out of my wits now. I've been here for the past - I don't know how long - and I don't even know if there's a stove in the kitchen or not," she said, her fingers working to open the vial in her hand.

"No, I thought nothing of the sort," Armand replied as he stopped at her side and gently took the vial out of her hand and opened it for her, returning it to her before going back to pick up the glass which held the contents of the herbal mixture he was to place in a pot and boil. Walking past her to the kitchen he continued, "Your mind is just busy with other things right now. You need to relax." Then he disappeared into the kitchen. Christine took a deep breath and opened the next vial that contained a cream-like healing salve. It would help heal his wound from the inflammation.

_Please be well…_

Gently, ever so gently, Christine began applying the herbal salves to the wound. Erik moaned in pain, and to her utter and complete shock, begged in an exhausted voice: "No!" He sounded like a frightened boy and there was fear in his voice, Christine had never for a moment thought that Erik would be capable of the feeling. Her jaw dropped before she regained her wits and with a sinking heart realized that Erik had started to hallucinate. That meant that his fever was going dangerously high. She knew that many hallucinations that came with these types of severe fevers were like nightmares. At the thought, a revelation knocked the wind right out of her, paralyzing her heart for a moment. Was Erik reliving some part of his past? He must be.

"Oh, Erik," she whispered tremulously. "What happened to you?" With trembling hands she continued to apply the salve. He moaned again.

"I've put the herbal mixture on the stove. It's boiling." Armand announced from the kitchen doorway, jerking Christine's gaze away from Erik to his. "Anything else I can do while the tea is being made?"

Christine sighed, wiping the back of her hand across her forehead where beads of sweat had gathered.

"Yes, actually there is," she said as calmly as she could muster. "We need to remove Erik's shirt. It keeps getting in my way."

"All right."

Armand positioned himself behind Erik's head and slipped both hands beneath Erik's arm pits, huffing as he lifted him up to a sitting position while Christine worked to remove Erik's shirt. Erik felt the pain in his wound increase as he was being jostled. Feeling himself surging forward and out of the abyss of unconsciousness, Erik fought inwardly to come awake. Armand laid Erik back down on the bed. Christine handed him the dirty bloody shirt.

"Burn it," she whispered as she turned her full attention back to Erik. She didn't want anything from this awful day to remain, most of all, not the shirt that was stained with Erik's blood. At that moment the teapot whistled on the stove, startling her for a moment before she rushed to the kitchen. Armand stood there impressed by her courage and the bravery she was displaying. Seeing her entering the kitchen he turned to go outside, to burn the shirt in a small pit fire.

"Ludaux," Erik called out in a strained voice, having been able to finally open his eyes and come awake if only partially, after all the jostling he had endured when they had removed his shirt. _Ludaux_was Armand's last name and the name Erik usually used when speaking to him and giving him orders.

Armand's eyes widened; he hadn't expected to see Erik awake and cognizant in his current condition. He walked closer and stood by the bed. Erik took a deep breath and said: "Watch out…for…Christine." Armand nodded at the order. Erik continued in a strained voice, fighting to stay cognizant. "The fever…I could…hurt her…" He wanted to say more, butthe last part of the sentence died on his lips. His eyes closed as he once again succumbed to the beckoning darkness.

Erik knew that he was in the grip of fever and that the worst had not even begun yet. He had lethal skills and once in the grip of feverish nightmares of the past, he would be out of control. He couldn't risk the possibility of Christine getting hurt. She would be safe…a part of his subconscious knew that and the thought gave him peace.

Christine came out of the kitchen, holding a hot mug of the concoction in her hand, to find Armand still standing by Erik's bedside looking pale. Her heart lurched as she rushed toward him.

"What is it? Has he taken a turn for the worse?" she cried.

His attention jolted to Christine's worried outburst as she sat down in the chair by Erik's side and placed her hand on his forehead, frantically trying to discern if his fever had increased.

"My lady, he is fine," Armand said reassuringly, turning and walking toward the door.

Left alone, Christine finished checking on Erik, reassured that his fever at least for now was not increasing. Placing her hand beneath his head, she held the mug in her other hand and gently lifted Erik's head. Bringing the mug to his lips, she said softly, "Here, drink this. It will help you feel better."

Erik groaned but swallowed the nasty stuff anyway. After he had drunk the entire mixture, Christine placed the mug on the small table beside her and then gently laid Erik's head back on the pillow. Watching him for a moment, her heart constricting in her chest, she brought her hand up to the side of his face and softly brushed away a lock of black hair that had come to rest across his forehead.

"I love you," she said and kissed his ravaged cheek.

She then stood and walked toward the open bags on the table. She picked through them until she found a needle and a thread. A shudder ran through her; she had never stitched anyone in her life. She had watched sometimes when the sisters had done it, trying to help out, but she had never done it herself. That was in addition to the fact that she usually felt woozy at the sight of blood. But she had come this far, she thought to herself, taking a deep breath and straightening her shoulders. Erik had consistently been there for her and she was going to be there for him.

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Madame Giry sat in her rocking chair knitting a scarf, as was her habit these days. Ever since her daughter had disappeared, Madame Giry had sunk into a depression. Usually a strong and vibrant woman, she now just went through the motions of life, drowning herself in work. When she wasn't fixing healing herbal concoctions and receiving calls from sick people who needed her help, she busied herself with knitting. She had knitted at least ten scarves in the past week. Her tears had run dry. The first two weeks after Meg's disappearance, Madame Giry had wept throughout the long nights until no tears were left. Now, she felt only a numb sense of reality.

The house that Madame Giry lived in was not fancy but a simple, good sized, warm and cozy residence, elegant but sharp in its design just like the woman herself.

How many nights had she sat like this, Madame wondered, looking out the window into the darkened world, imagining her daughter coming through the front door, as she always did, vibrant and lively after her ballet practice. Madame sighed and wiped away a tear that had trickled down her cheek. She had thought that she had run out of tears but apparently that wasn't true. So distraught in her thoughts as her fingers moved of their own accord in never-ending patterns of knitting, Madame failed to hear the first knock at her door. It was the second knock, which was stronger and resounded throughout the sitting room, which jolted Madame out of her sad reverie.

Glancing at the clock on the mantle, she saw that it was 6:30 in the evening. She sighed._Somebody must be sick in the village_. She rose wearily, placing the scarf she was knitting on the now empty chair. Another knock resounded at the door, irritating her.

"Coming," she called out.

Just as she was unlocking the door, another knock resounded, almost making her jump in surprise. Now really irritated, Madame wrenched the door open and almost fainted on the spot at the sight that greeted her. There stood her daughter, Marguerite - beautiful, well - and alive!

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"So let me understand this one more time," the police chief said, while standing face to face with the lanky Gardener, as his assistant continued to scribble on the pad he held in his hand, taking notes of what was being said. "You last saw Mademoiselle Daae talking with an unknown man, who had brown hair? But you don't remember any of his other features?"

Raoul sat behind his desk drumming his fingers on its polished wooden surface, trying hard to tamp down his worry and annoyance that Bernard had not gotten a better look at the mysterious man that Christine was supposedly in the company of. Bernard swallowed, twisting his old hat in his hands, feeling nervous as he endured the relentless interrogation by the fierce chief of police.

"Well, I was too far away to tell his precise features, Monsieur," he replied.

"And you didn't see fit to approach when you saw a house guest talking to a stranger?" Raoul interrupted, barely able to hold his temper in check

The poor Gardener looked about ready to weep. "I - I'm sorry, my lord. I - I thought you knew and she seemed friendly and relaxed so I didn't think that anything dangerous was going on."

The chief of police continued to interrogate the Gardener for a while longer, before finally – and mercifully - dismissing him. Taking the note pad from his assistant and dismissing him as well, Edward sat down in a chair and flipped through the notes, frowning every now and then. Raoul rubbed his forehead tiredly as he looked at the chief and asked, "So did you find anything helpful?"

Edward placed the notepad on the desk and met Raoul's tired gaze from across the desk. The chief's gaze sent a chill down Raoul's spine, for Edward looked ready to impart some very bad news. "I'm afraid, Monsieur Le Vicomte, that solving this case will be very hard. I only hope that your brother isn't involved too deeply."

Raoul looked expectantly at the chief waiting for him to clarify his cryptic sentence, but when the chief appeared to be satisfied with saying that much, Raoul asked worriedly, "Involved in what?"

Edward paused for a moment, thinking where to start.

"First, you must know that I will do all in my power to capture the people who took your Christine and your brother. You see, Christine's father was helping my uncle break a very big case concerning the Marquess, eleven years ago. Only the poor girl's parents died in the process, and my uncle was killed as well. So you see, Monsieur De Chagny, you're not the only one dealing with a loved one's loss, or the repercussions."

"Oh, Dear Lord," Raoul breathed. "Do you mean to tell me that Lucienne was responsible for the death of Christine's parents? And that he is responsible for my brother's disappearance?"

Edward chuckled mirthlessly as he replied. "Yes. Lucienne. But we're not looking for him alone." Raoul waited for him to continue his sentence. When Edward didn't seem inclined to clarify, Raoul had to ask. "Who else?"

The reply sent shudders up and down Raoul's spine.

"The Living Corpse."

Raoul looked shocked for a moment, causing Edward to frown in curiosity at the man's reaction. Tamping his shock down, Raoul cleared his throat and stated confusedly, "But I don't understand. Lucienne hates that monster thing. He told me so himself when I thought him a friend." With dawning horror, Raoul continued. "Was he just playing me for a fool and working with that 'Living Corpse' to get my brother and Christine?"

Edward remained silent, digesting what Raoul had revealed to him before leaning forward, his eyes narrowing as he realized exactly what was going on.

"Monsieur Le Vicomte, you need to listen to me very carefully," the chief said severely. "The Living Corpse, as is the nickname of that man, is not Lucienne's friend or ally." Running a hand through his hair, Edward continued gravely. "That man worked for the Marquess once upon a time. There was also something… nobody knows what… but it was something that Lucienne wanted desperately of 'the Living Corpse'. The Marquess thought that he could threaten Erik." Looking at Raoul's stunned expression, Edward clarified before continuing, "That is his real name by the way. But Lucienne was wrong. And he paid dearly for thinking that he could threaten that man." On the heels of that statement, Edward added, "Lucienne is one of the vilest men alive, Monsieur De Chagny, make no mistake about that. But 'the Living Corpse' is the deadliest."

And Christine and his brother might be in that man's company, Raoul thought in a rising panic.

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It was one of the longest nights of Christine's life. She could barely keep her eyes open; she was beyond exhausted. She had stitched Erik's wound and dressed it. Taking turns with Armand, they had poured more healing herbal concoctions down Erik's throat, every hour. She was too tired to argue with Armand who insisted he do most of that task. She wanted to stay as close to Erik as possible and yet Armand seemed to be hovering over them, like a vulture. Every time Erik began to hallucinate, Armand would pull Christine off the chair by Erik's bed and hold her back, not allowing her to rush to him and calm him as she wanted to do. At first she had fought Armand, trying to break away from his grip or to get an explanation from him. But he refused to let her go when Erik was in a nightmarish bout or to explain his reasons. As the night wore on and she became more and more weak and tired, Christine didn't fight Armand anymore; she didn't have the strength and she wanted to reserve whatever strength she had left for helping Erik. She just went with the flow, walking and talking through a fog of numbness. Her muscles ached, her back hurt, her eyes burned from lack of sleep. But she had sworn she wouldn't give up, or leave Erik for an instant until his fever broke.

Finally, exhaustion won out and she fell asleep leaning down from her chair onto the side of the bed, where she lay her cheek against Erik's hand, which she held in one of hers. Armand slept on an empty chair across the room. He had wanted to keep an eye on Christine, but having not slept several nights in a row, sleep won out.

Soft morning light greeted Erik's eyelids. After having endured a hellish night, Erik felt himself considerably lighter. There was no weight on his consciousness or eyes. He felt very tired, but not out of sorts. Something silky soft tickled his lips. With some effort, Erik opened his eyes, and then closed them again for a moment, before opening them again to see the soft morning light. Trying to move, he realized something else; his hand was pressed against something soft and warm. Using his free hand, Erik brought it up to his lips and lifted a long stand of golden hair. He frowned for a moment, before realizing that he was holding a strand of Christine's beautiful hair between his fingers. He looked down and saw Christine sleeping by his side, her cheek pressed against his hand, which she held like a lifeline.

Lifting his head a little off the pillow, Erik groaned as the room spun around him before coming back into focus. He looked down at her face, to see her more clearly, to make sure that he wasn't dreaming. There she was, dark shadows beneath her beautiful eyes, a testament to the fact that she must have stayed up all night watching over him as the fever had run its course. With that thought, Erik leaned back against the pillow contentedly realizing that his fever had truly broken. He then lifted himself up on one arm, so that he was in a semi-sitting position, and buried his free hand in Christine's silky hair, gently stroking it, before cupping her cheek and running his thumb slowly across her slightly parted lips.

Christine frowned and mumbled something in her sleep. As he gently touched her lips again with his thumb, Christine stirred and opened her tired eyes. When her gaze cleared, she found herself looking into a pair of golden eyes. Startled from her sleepy haze, she straightened away from the bed, her eyes widening in surprise. Erik's fever had finally broken!

"Good morning," Erik stated casually, only he wasn't prepared for Christine's reaction. She cried out and flew out of her chair, launching herself into his arms, sobbing almost hysterically. Erik winced, his wound still very tender. A moment later, Christine realized that she must be hurting Erik and tried to move away from him, sitting up on the bed, just as he had started to bring his arms around her.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! Did I hurt you?" she cried. Erik grabbed her by the arm, not allowing her to move further away from him and although he wasn't one to smile, he found himself smiling slightly for her benefit.

"Come here, Angel," he said soothingly to calm her down, as he patted his good shoulder with his free hand. She shook her head; she was trembling - he could feel her shaking. "No," she stated as firmly as she could muster. "I could hurt you!" He pulled her down to his chest and she didn't fight. Truth be told, Christine was too dazed and tired and happy and in shock as all her remaining strength seeped out of her. All the emotions which she had been keeping inside all through that hellish night came back with a vengeance. Erik gently placed her head on his good shoulder as she sobbed the words she had been thinking and feeling and dying in. "I could have lost you forever!"

"No, that would never have happened," Erik replied soothingly, his hands moving softly over her back, arms, shoulders, and the nape of her neck as he gently rubbed and massaged all the tension out of her muscles. He buried one hand in her hair as she continued to sob in his arms.

Erik's eyes met Armand's, who had awakened due to all the ruckus Christine was causing, which she was completely unaware of at the moment. Erik gave him a look that dismissed him without needing to say a word. Armand got the silent message, nodded and turned toward the door.

Alone with Christine, Erik bit back a smile when she said through her tears, her voice slightly muffled, "Don't you ever scare me like that again!" Her voice came out shaky, although she tried to make it sound firm. She was bossy after all, Erik thought lightly. Then he felt a bit guilty because she clearly was very distressed.

And it was then that it struck Erik. He had never, ever, in his entire life had anyone love him, not even a little. He had always known that when he died nobody would mourn him or weep over his remains. He would die forgotten and alone. But now, here she was, someone as beautiful inside and out as Christine Daae, an angel sent to him, who was weeping in his arms, for him! Out of fear that she would lose him! Tears burned in his eyes and a lump formed in his throat. He had never even dared to dream that something like this could happen to him.

"Christine," Erik said tenderly. She raised her head from his shoulder to look him in the eyes. There were still some remaining tears on her cheeks. Erik wiped them with the palm of his hand. "Could you get me my saddle bag? It's over there," he said pointing toward an old dresser with rows of drawers. "The upper drawer."

She nodded, rising from his arms. She quickly walked toward the dresser and pulled the drawer open revealing the saddle bag. She brought it to Erik. Sitting by his bed side, she sniffed, wiping away the last remains of her tears with her free hand.

"Open it," Erik said. She obeyed. "The small crimson pouch," Erik instructed. "Find it." Christine looked inside, searching. A few minutes later she had the small pouched in her hand. She looked curiously at Erik; he nodded to her affirmatively to open it. When she hesitated, he prompted, "Go ahead."

She turned her attention back to the pouch and loosened the string which kept it closed. Turning it upside down over her open palm, her crucifix fell out of it. She looked back at Erik, ever so lovingly. Erik placed his open palm over hers, so that the crucifix was held between their intertwined hands. Erik wasn't one for nice talk or confessions of love. He had always found romantic notions to be silly. But ever since Christine had entered his life, he had known that his life would never be the same again…that he would never be the same again. And he knew, in that moment, looking at her beautiful, stormy azure eyes, that he had to express his feelings to her, even if it were with a few simple words.

"I love you, Christine," he said reverently, wholeheartedly, "I always will, till forever and a day. No matter what happens."

It took a moment for Christine to regain her wits, before she repeated tremulously, from deep within her heart, "And I love you Erik, I always will, till forever and a day. No matter what happens."

Once those simple words were spoken, Erik wrapped his free arm around her waist and drew her down to him, pressing his lips against hers, sealing their vows with a kiss.

_Always…No matter what happens…Forever and a day…_


	22. Chapter 22

Hello everyone, I have finally finished the new chapter. I had two scenarios in my mind, and then went with this one. I hope that it will be to your liking. It's on the longer side, to make up for the long wait.

R&R

Long Live Phantom!

* * *

**The Cottage Part Three**

Ned stood there silently cursing his luck - just what he needed, a wheel on the carriage was stuck in the mud. No damage was done, but now they were further delayed from getting to Erik. He knelt down helping the driver to fix it. At this rate, Ned thought, gloomily, Erik would be dead before they got to him. They had already been delayed by Madame Giry's and Meg's tearful reunion. Ned hadn't been able to bring himself to tell them that they needed to leave in a hurry. He had waited until they had finished crying and getting settled down before telling Madame that Erik was very sick and that they needed her help urgently. He knew that Madame had wanted to slap him at one point and he understood her anger. He had had to endure an interrogation by Madame about why she hadn't been informed that her daughter was alive, which Ned clarified as being for her daughter's safety. After that, they had at last got to moving. There was still a lot of catching up to do between mother and daughter, but the emergency of Erik's situation seemed to take precedence for now, and Ned was thankful for Madame's graciousness.

Meg, asleep inside the carriage, was covered by Ned's cloak. Madame, who was unusually quiet, was sitting there watching over her daughter. Ned pushed the carriage with all his might as the driver helped him. What time was it? Ned realized vaguely that dawn was upon them.

Erik had been without medical help for the entire night.

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Phillipe awoke with the first rays of light. Pushing himself up despite the pain, he managed to sit, hardly able to hold himself erect. He was still surrounded by Lucienne's men, some of whom were loading the horses, while one was putting out the remainder of the dying flames. Joseph Bouquet came toward him, throwing him the flask of water.

"Feeling better, eh?"

Phillipe barely caught the water flask, and then shuffled around to open it. He was parched with thirst.

"Well, it's a good thing you're feeling better. It would have been a shame if we had to kill that beautiful fiancée of yours and that oh, so honorable, brother of yours, because you were too sick to carry out your part of our deal," Joseph taunted.

"Shut up," Phillipe hissed back, then took a big gulp of the water. When he had swallowed, he added, "You're only making a fool of yourself with your empty threats."

Joseph's face turned crimson red with rage at Phillipe's blatant insult in front of the men. He rushed toward Phillipe, his fist slamming hard against Phillipe's jaw. The water flask fell out of his grip as Phillipe fell back onto the cold hard ground. Phillipe, still very sick and weak, could hardly defend himself. Nonetheless, he pushed himself again to a sitting position and twisted around, trying to get to his feet. However, his legs would not cooperate and Joseph did not wait. Bending down, he gripped Phillipe by the collar of his dirty and torn white shirt.

"You hit like a woman," Phillipe said with a cold, mocking smile, blood trickling down his jaw.

Joseph roared with rage and raised a fist again, ready to slam it into Phillipe's face. One of the men grabbed Joseph's arm, stopping him and pulling him away from Phillipe.

"Don't be a fool, Joseph. He can't give us the information we need if you beat him senseless, now, can he?" the man snapped, irritated by Joseph's behavior.

Joseph jerked his arm out of the man's grasp and moved away from Phillipe, cursing under his breath.

The man turned around to Phillipe and squatted by him as Phillipe sat wiping the blood from his jaw.

"You must have figured out that Lucienne is in trouble,"

In truth, Phillipe had awoken several times during the night after that first time when he had seen Joseph Bouquet. During the long night, the men had gotten drunk, which had loosened their tongues. They had spoken about how they had to get Lucienne back because he hadn't paid them yet for their services.

Phillipe didn't say anything. The man gave Phillipe his hand to help him up but when Phillipe didn't take it, the man grabbed him by the arm and helped him up nonetheless.

Standing on unsteady legs, Phillipe ran his hands through his tangled hair and realized that he ached all over. He must have lain unconscious for at least two days by that old church, he realized. How he had survived, he didn't know…perhaps it was his love for Sorelli and his brother…perhaps it was Providence, for he had truly felt a presence in that church…He wasn't sure, but all he knew was that the odds had been against him - he should have been dead but he had survived. Lucienne had wanted him to return to his house and claim that the "Living Corpse" had kidnapped him and almost beaten him to death for ransom, therefore bringing the entire French police force down on Erik's neck. But now Phillipe realized that Lucienne had had an even better plan - to leave Phillipe to die in the wild and then blame Erik for the death of a Comte. Hence all the blame would be shifted to Erik. Phillipe smirked. Apparently, Erik had gotten to Lucienne first and he, Phillipe, having survived, also put a blight on Lucienne's impeccable plan.

"However, you will still lead us to the Living Corpse." Then he seemingly switched to another subject. "You know, Sorelli's mother is getting better. She is still angry with you though, and waiting for you to return from your business trip. Sorelli truly is beautiful and feisty. What a shame it would be to have to kill her, don't you think?"

"And how would you kill her. She is never without protection." It was true, and when Lucienne had threatened, Phillipe had assumed that Lucienne had her. Now he realized that Lucienne had never had Sorelli. Oh, how he missed her! She would probably give him an ear full when they met again, he thought with a little inward smile. He would have to assure her that he wasn't having an affair with anyone. He could just imagine himself kissing her frown away.

"Oh, but accidents happen," the man said knowingly. "The question is, are you willing to risk her life or your brother's? The men are under orders. If Lucienne doesn't contact them once every two days, they know to strike. So, again, are you willing to take the chance?"

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Christine woke up from sleep to find herself alone in the small bed where Erik had been. Sitting up quickly, the covers bunching around her hips, she realized she must have dozed off in Erik's arms. Her pulse pounding, Christine looked around for him… where was he? In her estimation, he was still too weak to rise from bed, or to go wandering on his own. As she pushed herself out of the bed and her feet touched the cold floor, she noticed with a start that she was in her undergarments, just her chemise and pantalets. Had Erik removed her clothing? And then she was touched by his concern for her rest. Her dress was tight, and heavy, and he had removed it so that she would be more relaxed while sleeping. A few weeks before, Christine would have been extremely embarrassed and she would have been angry with Erik for having dared to do such a thing. But now she trusted Erik and knew that he respected her. He was still hurt, and he had thought about her and her comfort. Christine felt a lump rising in her throat; all her life she had learned to take care of herself, she had never had anyone to depend on emotionally and so completely before. In the convent, everyone had to take care of themselves. She had never been served, for in the convent they all served.

But now, she had Erik, her guardian angel.

Starting to walk to the door, Christine halted half way there, realizing that she couldn't go outside looking for Erik in her undergarments. As she spun back around to the bed, there on the chair she saw a new, beautiful, pink dress. Since she knew it would take her a long time to don it, and she couldn't lace it up herself since the laces were in the back, she opted for a blanket. Continuing to the bed, she took the cover and wrapped it around her shoulders to cover herself. It was then that she felt something around her neck. Touching the necklace with her left hand, she turned toward the mirror on the wall, and in her reflection, she saw her golden crucifix hanging around her neck again. She saw something else as well - sunlight caught on the diamond ring on her third finger, making the large diamond glow.

"Oh, Erik," she whispered. The ring was so beautiful, and it meant so much more to her because of what it represented.

Not being able to wait a moment longer, she turned and rushed toward the door. As she pulled the door open, she came to an abrupt halt at the sight of Erik, masked, wearing a clean shirt and black pants, standing before her as if he had never been sick.

"Going somewhere?" he asked casually, one side of his upper lip twitched in what Christine could only interpret as his way of smiling, a small smile. One day, she thought, she would make him smile a big, full fledged smile. Erik stood there looking at her; she looked adorable in her tousled state.

"Where have you been?" Christine admonished softly, trying to keep a serious tone but failing miserably as a smile broke out on her rosy lips. "You, sir, should be in bed, and I won't take no for an answer."

Not knowing what came over him, and not taking the time to think about what he was going to say, he retorted, "Is that an invitation?"

He actually felt in the mood for light banter! Something had shifted inside of him, something irrevocable. Ever since this angel had entered his life, Erik had known it.

He watched Christine for a moment as she mulled his question over in her mind, and then he saw that delightful blush rise in her cheeks as the meaning of his question sank in. Christine looked into his eyes and realized what he was implying. Brushing her doubts aside for the moment, she rolled her eyes and dimpled her cheeks at him. She flashed him another of her smiles, playing along and turning the tables on him "Why, good sir, I'm a lady. And no, that's not an invitation, that's an order!"

"I don't take orders from anyone," he growled, his eyes twinkling mischievously as he caught her around the waist and hauled her toward him. The blanket fell from Christine's clutches to the ground. She let out a startled giggle. "Therefore," he continued in a husky voice that sent wonderful shivers down Christine's spine - "I find"- his lips a mere inch from hers - "that, while very tempting, I must decline the offer." And with that, he pressed his lips to hers, moist heat met pliant, lush lips.

But just as his lips touched hers, Christine pushed away from him, all playfulness gone from her demeanor, and a worried look shadowed her beautiful eyes. "Erik, you're sick. Really, you should be resting. I don't understand. Why did you get up so soon?" Her eyes filled with tears. "Do you wish to get sick again?"

Erik sighed. He raised his hand and brushed aside a strand of her hair that had come to rest on her face, gently placing it behind her ear. "Christine, angel, I'm fine. The fever will not come back. I will not leave you."

Christine wiped at her eyes and nodded.

"I've brought breakfast," Armand announced from behind the couple.

Erik turned to face Armand, as a startled Christine dove behind Erik's back since she wasn't properly attired. Erik shielded her from Armand's view, not that Armand had time to see anything.

"Did I not instruct you to knock, and if you are told to come in, then you are allowed to enter?" Erik demanded. Christine marveled at how his voice could change from beautiful and peaceful to threatening in mere seconds. She would never understand the depth of the power of that voice.

"The door was open," Armand replied, "therefore, I assumed - "

"I don't pay you to assume," Erik snapped. "I pay you to follow orders. Just place the food on the table and leave."

Armand did as he was told, bid Christine good morning, to which she replied with a shy "Good morning" from behind Erik's back. Then smiling, he excused himself and left.

Erik then closed the door and turned to face Christine. He led her to a small table, drew out a chair for her and she sat down, thanking him. He sat on the chair opposite hers. The smell of fresh coffee made Christine's mouth water. As she poured herself and Erik each a cup, she thought about what Erik had told Armand only a few minutes before. Funny that all this time with Erik, she hadn't even asked him what his job was. How did Erik make a living? What orders did Armand take from him?

But, for now, she thought, first things first…

"Erik?" she started. He just sat there watching her. "Aren't you going to eat something? You have to if you want to get better, or else you'll have a relapse."

Erik muttered something beneath his breath. Christine thought she heard the word "stubborn". He took a piece of toast, buttered it and then took a bite. His eyes met Christine's. Seeing the happy and surprised look on her face made his heart beat a little faster

"You look surprised," he stated in a casual tone as he placed the toast back on his plate.

"I just didn't think it would be this easy!" she stated with a laugh. "I thought I would have to shove the food down your throat!"

A startled laugh broke out from Erik. He could hardly believe her audacity! If it were anyone else, he would have made them eat their words. Shove food down his throat, indeed! But then, that was one of the reasons he loved her so much; she was innocent and spontaneous and she treated him like any other normal human being. Then his amusement turned to amazement as his laugh died down and he realized, that for the first time since he could remember, he had actually laughed - a full fledged, no holding back, laugh!

When his eyes met Christine's, he was further surprised to see how quiet she had become, and the tears that were shining in her eyes.

"You laughed," she whispered in awe.

To Erik's shock, he felt a flush rise from his neck to his cheeks. He had never laughed. For as long as he could remember, he had never laughed; but then he had never cried either. Dead, that was the way he had been, the Living Corpse, the Ghost, the Phantom, the Angel of Death, all perfect nicknames. And yet, this true angel had entered his life, turned his existence upside down, without even having any idea about the life she had breathed into him.

He rose from his chair, not being able to wait a moment longer to give her his other gift.

"Erik?" Christine said softly. He noticed, to his further discomfort, that she had been watching him, while he had been lost in his thoughts for several moments. For the first time in his life, Erik was thankful for the mask - it kept most everything shielded, even if he had let go of his controlled expression for a moment. "Thank you for the ring."

Bringing his hand across the table, he took her hand in his. His thumb grazed her knuckles and their fingers intertwined. "You're welcome." He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it, before letting it go.

Erik resumed his seat and they sat there for a while in silence, glad and content in each other's company. As they shared breakfast, Erik enjoyed watching Christine eat. He noticed that he liked the way her lips moved when she chewed. He liked the way she seemed so intent on spreading just the right amount of butter on her toast. He even liked the way she sipped her coffee.

When she had eaten her fill, she wiped her hands on the napkin and looked up at Erik, who had only eaten a little. But he had eaten nonetheless, just to please her.

"I've got something for you," he said.

Christine clapped her hands together excitedly and grinned. "What is it?"

Erik stood and got his saddlebag from the dresser. Christine followed him with her eyes, watching as he rummaged through the bag for a few moments, and then he turned around toward her with something in his hand. He walked toward her and she watched him, curious now. He gently took her hand in his and dropped a small bag into it. It looked like a coin bag.

"What's in it?" she asked softly.

"Open it."

Breaking eye contact with him after a few moments, she looked down at the simple bag, and then proceeded to open it. When she opened it, she saw seeds, lots of seeds and they looked very much like…her breath hitched and got stuck in her throat.

"Roses," she whispered, scooping out a small amount of the seeds into her palm.

"For you to plant in your garden," he answered cryptically, as he gently cupped her cheek, raising her down-turned face up to his. She slowly stood, clutching the bag in her hand, as if it were a treasure.

What garden, Christine thought for a moment. But for now, she was too emotional to think clearly. She felt as if all her dreams were coming true, and suddenly fear ripped through her. She looked at Erik through a shine of tears and whispered, "Oh, Erik, I'm so frightened!"

"Frightened of what?"

"This is all just too good to be true. Dreams don't usually last."

He wrapped his arm around her waist, and drew her to him. "But it is true. It is real."

Erik hesitated for a moment, toying with a strand of her hair. And then he was surprised to feel Christine rising up to her tip toes as she brought her free hand up and ran her fingers through his black hair. She drew him closer. Erik did not resist letting her take the lead. She pressed her lips to his, wrapping her arms around his neck. He hugged her to him. The urgency of his feelings for her stunned him for a moment. With one swift move, he swung her up into his arms. She squeaked into his mouth, since they were still kissing. He carried her to the bed and gently placed her on it. He was just about to start kissing her senseless, when an urgent knock came on the door.

"It's important," Armand called out.

Erik muttered something and rose, leaving a flustered Christine.

The instant he opened the door of the cottage, he knew something was wrong. His senses had never let him down and in that moment he felt a prickle going up his spine. He quickly stepped outside, hoping that Christine would have the good sense to say inside, and closed the door behind him.

In that moment, Joseph Bouquet stepped out from behind Armand, pointing a gun toward Erik. Another man held a gun to Armand's back. Phillipe appeared next, looking remorseful but determined.

"Your man, Phillipe, was so kind as to lead us here." Looking around, with that leer on his lips, Joseph continued. "So where is that pretty thing who has kept you so busy?"

Erik's eyes blazed and a deadly calm came over him. He knew that he could take Joseph down, but was he willing to risk Christine getting hurt, or witnessing what would happen? That was the question that nagged at the back of his mind.

"Don't even think about trying anything, the men have surrounded this place." Looking around, he asked again, "So where is that little fetching thing?"

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Christine knew something was not right. Erik was still outside and something was definitely wrong. She rushed to get into her new dress. She tried to lace it up as best she could. From the other side of the door, she could hear snippets of conversation. Some words here and there and they made her more confused.

Once she was more or less properly attired, she rushed toward the door, forgetting to brush her hair, hence looking disheveled and flushed. She swung the door open, only to come to an abrupt and horrified halt.

"Oh, there she is," Joseph announced, running his dirty gaze over her, making her skin crawl. "She really is very beautiful. No wonder she has you smitten with her."

Erik gritted his teeth and fought to give the outward appearance of indifference. It was the only way he could guarantee Christine's safety. Oh, he hated himself for what he would have to do now, but Christine's safety was much more important then the breaking of his newly found heart.

Christine remained pinned to her spot, her eyes desperately sought Erik's. She flinched when she saw him running his gaze over her in that same demeaning way as he sneered and turned his attention back to Joseph. "She is, isn't she?"

Christine's heart fell. In all the confusion she felt, in that moment, it was as if Erik had slapped her. She couldn't move or speak; she remained speechless, listening in disbelief to this conversation as if she were a sack of grain being bargained for.

Joseph looked confused for a moment, but then he looked more controlled. "It won't work, Erik. I know that you care for the girl and I'm taking her with me. That way, I know you won't lie to me, when you tell me about Lucienne's whereabouts. And Lucienne will pay me more, since he was really looking forward to make her acquaintance" Erik understood what Joseph was implying, and he knew that if he showed that he cared for Christine in the least, she would be in grave danger.

Christine gasped and turned to enter the cottage, wanting to escape this nightmare scenario that was unfolding right before her eyes. She heard Erik's dark chuckle as his hand shot out and he grabbed her, not allowing her to retreat. She cried out as he hauled her toward him. "You can have her, if you're willing to pay.'

"You mean you want to sell her?" Joseph asked incredulous, since he had been sure that he would have Erik under his control.

"Joseph, Joseph." Christine struggled against Erik's grip but it was no use. She would have to endure this nightmare. There was no waking up, she thought dimly. "Don't tell me that you have been reading some of those silly romances and thought I was in love, and would somehow fight to the death over her." He chuckled again, amused, causing Christine to shudder at the sound of it. How was it that his voice could be so beautiful one moment, and so hideous the next, she thought dazedly. He continued, "I so enjoy the idea of you and your master paying for my used merchandise. Not that your master will get the chance."

Christine felt her heart break into a million pieces and her legs wouldn't carry her any longer. She couldn't even cry, because the pain she felt was so acute in its intensity. Lost in her haze of pain, she failed to see the silent signal that passed between Phillipe and Erik. It was while Erik was speaking to Joseph that Phillipe had started to move toward him, ever so subtly, so as not to spook the surrounding, waiting men in the bushes.

Joseph's face turned red with rage. "You can keep her" he hissed, and then, raising the gun and aiming it straight at Erik's chest, he said, "Then how about this. You tell me where Lucienne is, and I don't shoot you."

At just that moment, Phillipe had gotten close enough, and with all his might he lunged at Joseph, throwing all his weight at him. With a loud "Umph!" Joseph and Phillipe went tumbling down, the gun getting knocked from his hand. Erik used that moment of distraction to shove Christine inside the cottage. She cried out as she landed on the floor. "Stay down," he ordered in a steely voice she had never heard before as he closed the door behind him. Armand had turned around and ducked down to the stables to get his shot gun, while Erik attacked Joseph who was winning the fight against Phillipe, since Phillipe was still weak and ill.

"Get the gun," Erik ordered Phillipe as he slammed his fist into Joseph's jaw, knocking him unconscious. Several shots were being fired from behind the trees and bushes, where Erik figured the other men had been waiting. He took his Punjab lasso, and while Armand and Phillipe returned the gun fire, he silently made his way, like the ghost that he was, ready to kill them one by one. It was time to end it, once and for all.

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Christine lay on the floor weeping. Erik didn't care for her. He had only been using her for his amusement. Oh, how the thought hurt!

It was after all, too good to be true…for dreams never last…or so she thought…


	23. Chapter 23

Hello everyone. I hope that you are all having a wonderful summer vacation! And now ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the new chapter! I hope that you'll enjoy it.

I just want to say that this chapter is dedicated to Karol, my amazing beta reader, who has been doing such a wonderful job, and Mels4 who has been one of the most faithful readers and reviewers. A big teddy bear hug from me to each of you!

Long Live Phantom!

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**Chapter 23: (The Cottage) Part Three**

_Dear Angel of Music,_

_Today we buried Sister Luisa. She's gone from us. After talking to the sisters, I'm not feeling so awful anymore, because I know that I will meet her someday, God willing. And because I know that her memory will live in my heart forever._

_My Angel, oh how I wish to rest in your arms. I know that you are there. Today I felt your presence at the funeral. It was the strangest thing. I know that I have no proof that it's you, but I felt your presence, the same presence I feel around me when I am sad or low and I call for you. But why do you not come to me, Angel? _

_I know that I promised I wouldn't ask you to come anymore, so I'm sorry for doing it again. I thank God that He sent you to me, that He hasn't left me all alone. Please, Angel, stay…stay. I need you so._

_Lovingly, Christine Daee_

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Gunfire… it rang in Christine's ears, bringing her out of her misery. She twisted and sat up on the floor and listened more carefully. There it was - gunfire… loud… deadly…frightening.

"Oh, God," she whispered in supplication… Christine wiped the remainder of her tears from her cheeks. Images and snippets of conversations she had had with Erik flashed through her mind…The coffin in Erik's room…"_I had been passing there on an errand_"… How weak had this excuse been, that Erik had used to justify being there the night her father was killed…"_I told you to cut off his finger"… _That first conversation she had overheard, when Erik was talking to Ned… His wounds just last night had looked like a stab wound - who had stabbed him and why? ... Placing both hands over her ears, Christine closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind. No, she didn't want to accept it, but the signs were there…a sob broke from her. She couldn't believe that she had allowed herself to fall in love with someone about whom she knew barely anything.

But then again, he had held her when she had cried. He had soothed and comforted her. Whenever she needed him, he had been there for her. He had saved her life more than once, even putting his own life in jeopardy to protect her. So what was he, an angel or a monster?

She remembered Erik's order to stay down, but she was very angry at the way he had insulted and hurt her earlier. She wasn't going to listen to anything he said, and she surely wasn't going to follow his orders. He could order his men all he wanted, but he couldn't order her, that was for sure! In her addled state, she didn't realize that his telling her to stay down was for her own safety. When she remembered his words earlier, the ache in her heart intensified… he had had no qualms about selling her…his _used merchandise_…tears welled up in Christine's eyes again and rolled down her cheeks but she swiped at them angrily… Oh, no, she wasn't going to be the weakling anymore!

She would leave Erik and find another convent to go to. She didn't want to fall in love anymore. She was done with all this. Ever since she had seen Erik, she had felt like a leaf tossed and turned every which way in the wind…no peace… no control over her own life…never a break. She couldn't take any of this anymore. She just wanted to return to the peace found in the convent. But what convent would take her now? She couldn't pledge to become a nun, because she would be lying to herself and God if she did so, since she was in love with Erik. In addition to the fact that she had come to realize that she wasn't exactly meant to be a nun.

So where would she go? She rose onto unsteady feet and staggered to Erik's saddlebag. She opened it to see if she could find any weapon to protect herself with. She was going to leave Erik and find decent work, somehow, somewhere… she could be a governess…or she could knit scarves, hats and mittens and sell them for a living…she even could start her practice as a herb healer, and read books to improve her limited skills in that domain. As she thought about what she could do, things stopped looking so hopeless. She wasn't going to weep anymore for Erik or her broken heart. Rummaging through Erik's saddlebag, she found his handgun. Slowly, she removed the weapon and held in up in her hand with a mixture of fear and fascination.

"This will have to do," she whispered to herself in determination. And yet she felt her limbs trembling, the gun felt heavy in her hand and she felt drained. Taking a deep breath, Christine squared her shoulders as she gathered all her courage. In all the chaos that was brewing, she could make her escape and hopefully it would be a good while before Erik noticed that she was gone. Not that she thought he would care about her fate, because she was, after all, nothing but amusement to him, no better than a table or chair….worse… Christine felt bile rising in her throat at the thought of his words. Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself. She wasn't going to let his words affect or hurt her anymore.

"Give me strength," she whispered tremulously, crossing herself with her free hand. And with that, she started for the back door.

Next to the bed, a small sack of rose seeds lay shattered and forgotten on the floor.

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Gunfire… Ned was sure he had heard it. As the carriage approached that little cottage in the middle of nowhere, the sounds became stronger. Meg looked startled and Madame concerned. Ned looked out the window and hollered for the driver to stop the carriage immediately. The carriage was still in a safe distance from the cottage and the gunfire.

"What is it?" Meg asked, afraid, as she held on to Ned's hand.

"I'm not sure, sweetheart. But I want you to stay here," he said gently, as he tried to extricate his hand from her death grip.

"No!" she clutched his shirt with her other hand. "Ned, please don't go. It's gunfire. Let's just go back!"

Madame looked icily at Ned as she said in an accusatory and yet calm voice, "So, Erik is up to his old tactics, I take it. He hasn't given up his old life, has he?"

Ned sighed and ran his free hand through his chestnut hair. "No, Madame, it's his old life that refuses to leave him." This was not going well and he didn't have time to waste, explaining to Madame Giry or soothing Meg. And yet, looking at Meg's frightened, beautiful eyes, filled with worry for him, he couldn't just abruptly pull himself away from her and leave.

Ned gently began prying Meg's fingers from his shirt, trying to be as patient as possible. "Meg, listen to me. It will be alright. But I must go."

"I don't care," she cried. "You're life will be in danger!" She couldn't hold back her tears. "If anything happens to you… I have endured a lot, Ned, please don't ask me to endure your death!" Her voice broken with tears and she continued in a whisper, "I just can't."

Ned had successfully pried her fingers from his shirt. Holding her trembling hand in his, he reverently brought it up to his lips and kissed it, his fingers gently brushing her knuckles. Gently, he extricated his other hand from her grip and brought it up to her face to wipe at the tears on her cheeks. How this woman had worked her way so thoroughly into his heart, he didn't know. In that moment, he realized that he was head over heels in love with this broken, shattered, beautiful, courageous, survivor of a woman. Cupping her cheek in his hand, he raised her face to his, so that she was looking straight into his jade eyes.

"Listen to me. Everything will be fine." He wiped another tear that had fallen down her cheek. "You will never have to endure any hardship again, Meg, this I swear, not if I have anything to say about it."

Madame was watching in stunned disbelief. Her daughter was in love with Ned Sinclair?! Not if Madame had anything to say about it - and for good reason.

He kissed her other cheek, his lips brushing some more of her tears away. "But I must go, Meg. Just stay here, I will be back soon. Trust in me. Please." With that his lips locked with Meg's and she sobbed into his kiss. He kissed her gently, thoroughly, and pulled away.

Turning his attention to Madame Giry he instructed, "Madame, you do what Adrian tells you to do. Stay with him. He will keep you and Meg safe at all costs." Taking a deep breath, and seeing her icy look, Ned went on a little sheepishly, "I'm sorry for this, I honestly didn't expect - " he waved his hand "-this." meaning the gunfire.

"Of course, you didn't," Madame snapped. "Now, my daughter and I are in danger and apparently Erik has recovered, or not."

"I am sorry for this. But please just stay with Adrian, he will protect you with his life. You are safe as long as you stay here, away from the shooting." They would be safe in the carriage as it was a good distance away from the cottage. With that, he got up from his seat and out the carriage door. Meg called after him but he did not answer, as he made his way toward the gunfire and away from her.

"Come back," she whispered in a strained voice, her hands folded before her as if she were praying. "Come back."

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His shoulder hurt like the blazes. Erik realized a little too late that he should not have used the Punjab lasso, which required strength, instead of his gun. But then again, he had had no time to get his gun. His wound had reopened and he was bleeding. Erik cursed. How many had he killed so far? He didn't even know. He leaned against a tree trunk to get some of his strength back. The battle was almost over and he was winning. When this was all over, he would live a decent, normal life with his angel. Was that too much to ask for?

Erik massaged his temples for a moment as he refocused his thoughts. Straightening away from the tree trunk, he began moving again through the shadows to get to his remaining targets.

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Ned withdrew his gun as he made his way through the bushes toward the cottage. Kicking the door opened, Ned barged in, guns blazing, fingers ready to pull the triggers of both pistols he carried in his hands, only to find the room empty. His dropped his arms down and looked around. Everything was normal, except for the fact that a small bag of what appeared to be rose seeds lay splattered on the floor and Erik's saddlebag appeared to have been rummaged through, Ned guessed it was probably due to Erik getting his gun to fight the intruders.

Ned also noticed that the gunfire had decreased to an occasional shot here or there. Making his way back out, Ned was surprised to bump into Phillipe.

"Where the hell have you been?" Phillipe snapped. His voice sounded strained and he looked as pale as milk. Very ill, that's what he looked like to Ned.

"I went to get Erik some medical help because he was wounded! What the hell happened here? And how in the world did you escape?"

"Escape," Phillipe rasped as he lay against the wall to support himself. "Not really." Taking a deep breath to continue, his words were cut short as he saw a man moving deftly through the bushes and trees, trying to be as invisible as possible, approaching Ned from behind.

"Watch out behind you!" both men yelled in unison. With that, both Phillipe and Ned fell to the ground shooting. The two men who had tried to attack Ned and Phillipe from behind fell to the ground, shot.

"Son of a bitch!" Ned started as he sat up and saw that there was a hole in his sleeve. He had almost gotten shot in the arm.

Phillipe strained to sit up. He straightened at last and answered, "My sentiments exactly."

Ned stood and brushed at his pants a little, then lent a helping hand to Philippe.

"Are you alright?" Ned asked concerned.

"Yes," Phillipe said, straightening, gathering some of his strength.

"Erik and I were going to go look for you. We were going to make Lucienne tell us where you were. But then Erik's wound got inflamed, and you know the rest." Looking around, he continued, "Where are Erik and Christine?"

Phillip looked confused by Ned's question for a second, but before he had time to answer, Armand came around from the other side. "I checked the surroundings. I think we nailed the bas- " he halted in mid-sentence as his sight fell on Ned. "You're late!"

"I know, I know… I brought Madame with me to look at Erik's wound. Where is he?"

Looking around, Armand waved his hand at the surrounding woods. "Around here somewhere. You know him. He's probably making sure that none of the bastards escaped."

A groan came from the far side, to left of where they were standing, next to a bush, where Joseph had fallen unconscious. The men's' attention turned to the source of the sound. Joseph Bouquet was regaining consciousness. "Oh, look who's coming around" Armand spat contemptuously as he made his way toward Joseph, followed by Ned and Phillipe.

"I say we leave him for Erik to deal with," Phillipe inserted.

Ned groaned in annoyance. "Well, at least let's tie him up so that he won't escape."

Armand grabbed Joseph by his collar and pulled him up, into a standing position, and dragged him into the cottage. None of the men at that moment paid any attention to the fact that Christine wasn't there. Throwing him on a chair, Armand turned to get a rope from Ned. With that, both Ned and Armand tied the semiconscious Joseph. All this time, Phillipe was looking around the cottage with a frown on his face.

"Where in hell is Christine?" he ground out, enraged. They didn't need any more complications, and with the way he was feeling, he wasn't sure he would last much longer without medical help.

"I haven't seen her."

"Oh, damn!"

Both Ned and Armand said simultaneously. Ned looked confused as he continued, "I don't understand. Did you leave her here?"

Standing helplessly, both Phillipe and Armand looked tired and angry. Dealing with an enraged Erik wasn't something any of them was looking forward to.

"Yes," Phillipe bit out. His temper rising, he turned to Armand, "You would think the daft girl would realize that what Erik said was for her own safety!"

"What is going on here?" Erik's commanding voice came from the doorway.

The men turned around to face him. A tense silence fell as Erik's gaze took in all the surroundings, including the bag of rose seeds spilled on the ground. His eyes blazed when his sight fell on his saddlebag. He knew that Christine had probably gone through it. His temper was rising. His knees felt weak when he thought of what might happen to her out there in the wilderness alone. When he got to her he was going to shake her until her teeth rattled! Erik thought, enraged.

"Find her," he bit out. Then he turned around and disappeared into the shadows in search of his light.

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There was a knot in her waist and she was breathless from running but she was relieved that she could no longer hear any gunshots. She had gotten away! She could hardly believe it. A piece of wood snapped under her foot as she continued running between trees, bushes and brush. She dodged a tree limb that was too low, which would have hit her in the face otherwise. Her dress was dirty and getting torn in different places as it got stuck on the adjacent bushes, while she continued moving quickly.

When a carriage came in sight, Christine couldn't believe it. She had just found a means of transportation.

"Hello! Please, I need your help!" she cried as she waved her free hand and ran as fast as her aching legs could carry her.

Two women looked out the carriage windows and one seemed familiar to Christine. As she approached, Christine almost wept when she saw that it was Meg.

"Christine?" Meg called out in surprise, and then her head disappeared from the window as she opened the door and jumped out the carriage to meet Christine.

"Meg!" she called and fell into Meg's arms crying. "Oh, Meg, I am so glad to see you!" With that she pulled away and wiped at her tears as she got herself back together.

"What's wrong?" Meg asked, worried, then horror dawned on her as she continued in a strangled voice. "Oh, God. He's dead. Ned is dead, isn't he?"

"No, no!" Christine was quick to reassure her. "I mean, I haven't seen him. Listen, we have to get out of here now!"

"What is going on out here?" a regal woman, who looked to be in her early fifties, asked.

"Mother, this is Christine."

"Christine, meet my mother."

"What's wrong, child?" Madame asked.

"I - " Christine wet her lips as she debated whether to tell this strange woman or not. But then again, she was Meg's mother, so that didn't exactly leave her at stranger status. "We don't have a lot of time, we must leave now."

Looking at the carriage, Christine was relieved to see that there wasn't any driver. As if Madame had read her mind, she said, "The driver left to have a quick look around, since we didn't hear anymore shots. He'll be back any second now."

"Oh, God, that means we have to move now. Not a second to lose! Please!" Christine stated urgently as she rushed toward the carriage, followed by Madame and Meg.

When Christine made to climb in the driver's seat, Madame hurriedly grabbed her arm to stop her. "I know how to drive a carriage - I'll drive. But first you must tell me what's wrong."

"There is no time to explain. Don't you understand? Erik will find me, and he'll…Oh, God, there's no telling what he'll do." Christine's voice was laced with hysteria.

Madame's face paled, as if understanding had dawned on her. She had always known Erik to be a gentleman when it came to these things, but then again with the kind of life he led, it wouldn't be any wonder if he had gotten desperate and kidnapped this poor girl.

"Very well," Madame said, taking control of the situation. "Get into the carriage now."

"But, mother, I can't leave without Ned!" Meg started to protest but as soon as the sentence had left her mouth, her mother had grabbed her by the arm and was forcefully leading her to the carriage.

"Not another word from you, young lady. You have no idea who Ned is. He is not your friend and he most certainly is not your sweetheart." Cutting her a sharp look of reprisal, Madame continued, "We'll discuss the latter, later." And with that, Madame shoved her daughter into the carriage and closed the door.

Getting back into the driver's seat, Madame snapped the reins with force and the horses began moving at a quick pace. Yes, she would get her daughter and this poor young woman out of harm's way.

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Christine sat silently in the carriage, feeling numb. She had a faint sense that Meg was mad at her, but she wasn't sure, since everything seemed a blur to her. As the sunlight winked through the glass windows, Christine thought she caught a glimpse of something glowing, but she wasn't sure what it was, it seemed to be coming from her. Was it the sun reflecting on the crucifix she wore, she looked down, and that wasn't it. At that moment, Christine's sight fell on the ring on her hand, and she blanched even more.

"Oh, no," she whispered as she raised her hand to eye level.

Meg's tearful gaze turned to Christine as she asked, "What?"

"I forgot to remove the ring. I – Oh, God!" She buried her face in her hands before continuing. "I made vows with Erik!"

"I don't know if Ned is alive or dead, and you're crying because you made vows with Erik?" Meg replied tautly, tears shining in her eyes

Christine took a deep breath, before replying calmly, "Meg, listen to me. I love Erik as much as you love Ned, if not more. But think, we know nothing about them, about their past, who they are. We don't even know if they have any family. There have been many signs, Meg. We were just desperate and we refused to acknowledge any of them."

"What in the world are you talking about?" Meg cried in frustration. "If it weren't for Ned, I would have been dead! Or insane! He took care of me, he never disrespected me, or mistreated me. And now you're talking to me about signs? Signs of what?! Signs that Ned loves me, really truly, despite everything that has happened to me! Answer me!"

Christine turned even paler at Meg's outburst. Placing both hands in her lap, Christine made a strangled sound as she tried hard not to cry. "I'm sorry, Meg, if my actions have inadvertedly broken your heart. But you have to admit -" taking a deep breath, Christine steadied her voice as she continued - "you must admit that we know next to nothing about Erik or Ned. Did you know that Erik offered to -" Christine swallowed hard, trying desperately not to break down into tears - "he offered to sell me earlier today!" She almost yelled her confession. It hurt too badly to say the words aloud, because saying them aloud made them more real, more hurtful. "He called me his used merchandise! He was cold and cruel beyond description!" Her voice had risen to a shrill, hysterical, agonized tone and tears rolled down her cheeks. She raised one fisted hand and placed it on her heart. "And I realized that he was simply amusing himself with me. That I knew nothing about him and that I was so incredibly stupid to love him!" Taking a deep breath, she leveled her voice to a lower, calmer tone as she continued, "that I was a fool to ever trust him."

Meg listened with shock. Christine looked directly into Meg's eyes to say the following words. "And you should be wise enough to take all these things into consideration. You haven't had a lot of time to spend with Ned. Things have been moving too quickly for both of us. And in reality, you know next to nothing about Ned, just like I know nothing about Erik"

Meg tried hard to stifle a sob, as Christine lay back too weak, too hurt, too drained to cry anymore. Life, it seemed, had dealt them both a very hard blow.

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"Where's the carriage?" Ned almost roared at Adrian.

"I left them for a few minutes to look around to make sure that we weren't being set up from behind, and when I returned they were gone!"

"But I don't understand," Ned stated as he ran his hand through his hair in frustration, and then it came to him. Madame had been very angry when he last left her…yes, that explained it. Perhaps she got tired of waiting and decided to return to her house.

"What happened?" Phillipe asked as he walked up behind Ned, followed by Armand.

"I'll tell you what happened," Erik's calm, deadly voice came from the other side. He had been following Christine's tracks, and now he realized exactly what had happened.

"Adrian, your services are not needed anymore. I do not appreciate inept drivers. Get out of my sight." Looking in the direction the carriage had taken, Erik continued, changing the subject. "Christine is with them."

Ned didn't understand why Christine had taken off, but he guessed Erik would tell him later. He only hoped that Erik hadn't done something bad to the poor girl, and that she would tell Madame and Meg, hence cementing all their worst expectations of him in the process.

"Armand, stay with Phillipe, he looks ready to drop at any moment. I will meet you in the cottage. Keep watch on Joseph, too. I will deal with him when I return." turning to Ned, Erik continued giving his orders. "You will accompany me."

Armand moved to give Phillipe a helping hand. He took Phillipe's arm and put it around his neck helping him to stay upright as they slowly made their way back to the cottage. Erik made his way to get his horse, Ned accompanying him.

"Erik, what do you plan to do when you find her?" Ned asked, since he had seen that look in Erik's eyes before and it didn't bode well. Erik continued to saddle his horse, as Ned saddled his and continued "If she is angry with you, it would be better to give her some time. And be calm when you confront her."

Buckling the saddle straps, Erik's lips thinned into a grim angry line as he turned his gaze to Ned. "Oh, I'll be calm alright." He swung up on his horse and continued, hardly able to restrain his voice. "And if she doesn't return with me peacefully, I'll drag her by her hair, so help me God!"

Didn't she realize the danger she would be in without his protection!? Didn't she realize…Erik couldn't think on it anymore, he could feel his blood pounding in his temples, and the weak feeling in his knees wouldn't abate, as fear for her safety struck deep in his heart, but he buried it under his boiling anger. Oh, he would deal with her alright, and she would learn never to disobey him again!


	24. Chapter 24

This story is close to being over, if my estimation is right, I'm thinking there's still around 3 to 4 chapters to go, but I'm not sure, we'll see! I hope that you're all having a good school year, or work year or whatever year lol.

Long Live Phantom!

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**Chapter 24: (The Village)**

_Dear Angel of Music,_

_Today it rained a lot. We couldn't go outside, and Mary Catherine had to spend the entire day in her room, because she hadn't done her homework properly, so she was punished for it. I told her not to draw when she should be studying, but she won't listen to me. Now I can't talk to her all day long. I am very bored, I can't go outside and I have no one to talk to. _

_I think I'm just going to go to the library and get a good book to read. Oh, and I am worried about my roses, but I trust that you will watch over them, too? Please, Angel, if it is possible, don't let the wind and harsh rain kill my roses. _

_Lovingly, Christine Daee_

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"Mother, please stop the carriage! I think I'm going to throw up!" Meg called out the window.

Christine snapped to attention, her features filled with worry now. Her eyes were puffy, her nose was red; she knew that she looked awful, not that she cared. Right then all her attention had shifted to Meg, who was turning blue. Meg's stomach rolled from how upset she was; every time she thought about what Christine had told her, she felt sick. What did it say about Ned to be associated, and not just associated, but to be working for someone like Erik? Why, oh, why?

Meg was turning blue. And seeing that the carriage was not slowing down, Christine knew that Meg's voice must not have carried to her mother, because it hadn't been strong enough. She quickly leaned over, looked out the open window and called in a stronger though sore voice for Madame to stop the carriage immediately, because Meg was not feeling well at all. The carriage immediately began to slow down, before it came to a complete stop. Meg moaned as she opened the door and almost fell out of the carriage. She landed on her knees, and bracing herself on her arms, she began to retch. The sounds made Christine somewhat sick, though she tried to help Meg. She wasn't very successful in her attempt, though, because she was rather trapped inside the carriage, since Meg had fallen directly in front of the steps.

Madame was beside her daughter on the ground in a few moments, after she had climbed down from the driver's seat.

"Mon Dieu," Madame whispered worriedly, as she lovingly patted her daughter's back, ready to be a leaning post for her daughter, once the throwing up came to a stop. After several bouts of retching, Meg collapsed against her mother, sobbing, before falling forward again in another retching fit. By this time, Christine stood silently, as she watched from the carriage door, helpless to assist. Seeing Meg like this, and thinking of what had happened, brought Christine's hurt and pain back to the surface again. It just felt too overwhelming for a moment.

Meg was now leaning against her mother, while Madame held her close, her eyes filling with helpless tears for her daughter. A possibility niggled in the back of Madame's mind, but she refused to even acknowledge it. Meg had now stopped retching, but she was still weeping into her mother's shoulder. All the while Madame tried to remain as strong as possible, while she tried to calm her daughter with soft reassuring utterances.

The wind blew through the trees. The leaves rustled softly, adding to nature's quiet symphony, as rays of light shone through in a silent dance of beauty, painting breathtaking portraits with their eternal strokes wherever they touched. The earth was a mixture of brown soil and green grass. Behind a bush, Christine could see through a shimmer of tears, a squirrel trying to crack a nut. A startled laugh almost escaped her trembling lips, but she bit it back. The portrait that she saw in those moments was a direct contrast to how she felt inside and the sound of Meg's crying. But somehow in that portrait, it seemed to her as if God were caressing the earth, and Christine felt hope blooming in her again.

Meg's crying had died down. Christine slid back onto her seat, as Madame helped Meg up the steps and back into the carriage. After closing the door, Madame returned to the driver's seat and took hold of the reins. And then, she realized that she couldn't take Christine and Meg back to her house, because Erik would find them there. And Meg was sick. Madame did not like the look of it. She knew that there was a small village nearby, and that Richard Firmin, an old man who lived there, could help. He had had great interest in music in his youth, but as the years had passed and he didn't have any real success with his music career, he had taken over his father's herbal trade. He was a healer, and he had been the one who had taught Madame all that he knew – and now all that she knew -about herbs and healing.

Yes, she would take her daughter and Christine there. Perhaps, just perhaps, she would be successful in avoiding Erik - and outrunning fate.

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"They stopped here for a short while," Ned mused. They were following the tracks of the carriage.

Erik sat atop Cesar, silent, slightly leaning to the side, as he studied the ground.

"And one of them apparently was sick," Erik noted. Concern niggled at him

Looking in the distance, with eyes that missed nothing, he continued, "I think I know where they're going."

Ned looked confused for a moment, before realization dawned on him. Relief followed by worry filled his features as he said, "Of course, if one of them is not feeling well, then they will stop at the closest place to rest, and get help." His features darkened as another realization hit him. "Not that village?" But it was more of a statement than a question.

"Yes," Erik replied ominously.

Without another word, Erik nudged his horse forward. It was a good thing that Cesar had calmed completely now, since the horses had been a little spooked due to the gunfire. But since Cesar was well trained, it hadn't taken the horse long to calm down.

As Ned followed, he knew they weren't going as fast as they could. In fact, Erik was being extremely restrained in his pursuit so far. Worry niggled at him, hoping that Meg wasn't sick.

Erik nudged Cesar to a fast trot. So far he had been holding back, because he didn't like to operate when his emotions were playing havoc with him. He was taking his time to cool off. As long as he remained on their trail and knew that they were fine and that no harm had come to them, which was the case so far, Erik would take his time. Now, with the urgency of one of them possibly sick, he knew that he would have to increase his pace. And soon, Christine would be with him.

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"Finally," Madame whispered in relief as they entered the village borders. It was a small village that didn't have a lot of inhabitants, with small roads, small shops, several larger facilities like the bank and the inn, and small houses. Madame urged the horses forward toward the transportation agency. She knew that they used coaches, and she knew that they would happily take this new carriage in exchange for one of their carriages which was older and not as fancy.

Christine looked out the window, with her heart in her throat. She could hardly believe it. They were actually in a village! There were people moving around, following their daily routines. There was a bakeshop, the blacksmith, a bank, even an inn! Horses whinnied as they passed by, moving in a slow trot, and a carriage passed by them as well.

Meg, on the other hand, lay slumped on the couch opposite Christine, with her eyes closed, looking sick.

The carriage came to a stop in front of the transportation agency. Meg moaned in relief and opened her eyes, while Christine looked curiously out the window and then back at the door. She slid down her seat and opened the door. Madame was just coming around, as Christine took her first step down the carriage stairs and onto the ground.

"What is this place?"

"We're going to trade our carriage here for another," Madame informed her.

Meg's head peeked out, before she too took two tentative steps down the carriage.

"You haven't eaten anything," Madame observed critically. "That might be the reason why you retched in addition to being upset." Putting her hands on her waist, she continued, looking at Christine this time, "Take my daughter, go to the inn and wait for me there. I will meet you there shortly. First, I must finish my business here."

Christine nodded before taking Meg's arm and helping her. They walked toward the inn, while Madame turned toward the agency, ready to exchange the carriage. Even if Erik and Ned found them, which she knew they would, they would be tracing the wrong carriage before they found out that Madame, Meg and Christine were in a different carriage. With any luck, they would be long gone, before Erik realized what she had done.

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"Armand, I don't think I will make it," Phillipe hissed as he fought to keep his eyes open. "I need medical attention."

Joseph laughed, the sound tired and raspy. "Hopefully, you'll die soon, so that we won't have to endure your incessant whining anymore."

"Shut up."

Armand turned to Phillipe and looked at him thoughtfully before saying, "I think I know what to do."

Rising from his chair, Armand was sure that he was making the right decision. After all Erik would not want Phillipe to die. Desperate times did call for desperate measures, and Phillipe was looking about ready to pass out. Armand grabbed Phillipe and helped him to his feet.

"What?" Joseph sneered, blood dried on the side of his mouth. He continued mockingly, "I must say, Armand, I am truly touched by this soft side of you." Then he laughed.

Neither Armand nor Phillipe replied as they made it out the door. Once outside, Phillipe inquired in a strained voice, sounding as if he had been running for hours, "Where are we going?" Turning to look at the cottage, he gasped, "What about…that wretch?"

"Oh, don't worry. I'm going to knock that big mouthed idiot unconscious again. Then I'm taking you to your house. You shouldn't have stayed with us for this long. You are a Comte - the police will soon start looking for you if you don't make an appearance. And once you're back, you'll be able to get the best medical attention."

Phillipe smirked. "Oh yes, I was attacked on my way to a business meeting. I have been kidnapped for ransom but I managed to escape."

Armand's lips twitched, before saying, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a fist that needs to be planted in one ugly face."

Phillipe leaned against the wall for support, watching with a smile as Armand entered. He could hear Joseph sneering something, before he was knocked out.

Phillipe missed his brother tremendously, and Sorelli even more. It was time to return to normalcy, to his usual life. He could still remember how he had gotten tangled up with Erik. He had met him at a party, and was, at the time, passing in great financial straits, due to a deal that he had naively made with Lucienne. While Lucienne had cheated him out of his money. Erik had offered to help, and Phillipe had latched onto the opportunity. At the time, he hadn't even thought to question how Erik had come to know of his financial straits… whether Erik had done it selfishly or not, he had saved Phillipe's life in more ways than one…and for that, Phillipe would always be grateful…

Phillipe, at the time, was too busy with other things, like the fact that Lucienne had not stopped at just cheating him out of his money, but that the Marquess had also plotted to kill him, so as to buy the Comte's great mansion and lands which had bordered one of the Marquess' estates. It had reached a level where Phillipe had realized that it would either be him or Lucienne, after having suffered several "_accidents_", and attempts on his life. The police hadn't been able to do anything since there was no solid proof. Phillipe had guessed with bitter humor that he would have to end up dead before they acted. If it hadn't been for Erik, and Phillipe's training which he gotten when he had served in the navy, he might very well have been dead long before now… That had been almost three years before…

But here he was, and now he was going back to his life…to peace…

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"What is she doing?" Ned asked, as he watched Madame from a distance. They had already reached the village and were now sitting at the coffee shop across the street from the transportation agency.

Erik looked very ill at ease to be out in the open, where people could stare, especially in this place. He didn't like it one bit, but he was used to it, or that is what he told himself. Erik's lips thinned and he shook his head in mild amusement. "Oh, she is good. She has just exchanged her carriage with another, so that we wouldn't be able to track them."

Ned smirked as he looked back at Erik and then continued, "Well, I would say that particular ruse didn't work well for her, since we are here and we already know."

"Yes," Erik replied with a slight twitch of his lips.

Ned sighed in relief. Inwardly, Erik's temper and temperament seemed to have simmered down; which was a good thing, a really good thing given the circumstances.

"And she's going to the inn," Ned added, as if he were commenting on the weather.

They hadn't seen Christine and Meg yet, but now they knew where they were. Since Madame was headed to the inn down the street, that meant that Christine and Meg were waiting for her there. When they had first arrived, they had continued to follow the tracks of the carriage, although it was much harder to do so inside the village, since several carriages had passed by. But since Erik was an excellent tracker, while Ned had a knack for noticing even the smallest of things which usually helped immensely, it didn't prove to be a complicated problem. They had quickly spotted the carriage standing in front of the agency. They had left their horses at the barn, and paid the barn manager more than he usually made to take good care of their horses. They had proceeded to the coffee shop across the street, where they had a clear and unobstructed view of the agency and other facilities such as the bank and the inn.

"Should we move?"

"Not yet," Erik replied with a nonchalance he was far from feeling

He hated this place. He had never thought he would ever return here, he had never thought he would ever see Rouen again.

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"This will be your room, my dear," Madame said as she opened the door for Christine. It was a small room, but clean and elegant. The windows were large and light rolled through, illuminating the room with its incandescent glow. The drapes were white satin, there was a clean dresser, and the bed was of medium size and looked soft and inviting! Madame handed Christine the key to her room, and then pointed her to where her and Meg's room was. Madame had rented a bigger room to share with her daughter, with two beds. There was an adjoining door that linked both rooms together, which made Christine feel relieved. She didn't feel as if her room was separated from theirs. It had been a long time since she had felt a part of a family. Although she would never intrude on the Giry family, in her heart she liked to believe that she was somehow a part of this family.

"Thank you," Christine whispered, and then looked at Madame. "I don't know how to repay you. I'm afraid I don't have any money right now." She bit her lower lip, feeling ashamed and helpless. Once she found a job, she vowed silently, she would return every penny.

Madame waved her hand dismissively as she pointed out with finality, in that elegant way of hers, "Nonsense, my dear, and I want to hear no more of it."

Christine nodded and smiled tremulously. "I don't know what I would have done without you. Thank you for helping me."

Madame smiled at her and then steered her daughter to their room. Christine noticed that some color had returned to Meg's face and from her stronger tone, she knew that Meg was feeling better.

Just as Christine was about to close the door, Madame peeked back in. "Oh, I forgot to tell you, lunch will be served shortly. It will be brought up to your room."

"Thank you," was all Christine could bring herself to say. It was either that, or burst out crying at this woman's kindness.

As she closed the door and heard the lock fall into place, she felt somehow safe, somewhat detached from all her feelings; numb and exhausted were the closest she could think of to describe her condition. She didn't allow herself to think of Erik, or anything that had led her to this point. Walking toward the bed, she lay down thinking to rest a bit. She tilted her head to the side on the pillows and looked out the window at the blue skies, determined to only think of the future and hope for the best.

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"We must find my brother! As well as Madamoiselle Daee and Madamoiselle Giry!" Raoul shouted, as he slammed his hand on top of the police chief's desk. "We can't waste any more time! God only knows what might have happened to them!"

"Calm down, please, Monsieur Le Vicomte. I understand that you are worried and we are doing everything we can right now." He stood, retrieved his jacket, put it on, and, after getting a last look at his notes, continued hurriedly, "We have just received some reports of gunfire in a remote forest area, a few miles away from the small village of Rouen. We are going there now to investigate."

"What?" Raoul asked. This information took the wind out of his sails, and he almost sat down on the chair behind him. His hand shook a little as he ran it through his golden hair. Could it be? Was he close to finding his brother? To finding Christine, the only woman who made his heart beat wildly in his chest? And even Madamioselle Marguerite Giry. He didn't really know her but he surely didn't want anything bad to happen to her. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am sure," the police chief snapped as he holstered his gun and moved passed Raoul and out the office door. It took Raoul a moment to get himself together before he turned around and ran after the police chief, who was now giving orders to his men gathered in the hall. There were some twenty police officers going on this mission.

Raoul pushed his way through the crowd until her reached the police chief and said, "I want to accompany you."

The police chief sighed and started to refuse, but Raoul simply lifted his hand and continued. "Monsieur, I served in the navy. I am well trained. I will go to find my brother and Mademoiselle Daee anyway. So, why not make it easier for yourself and me. I can be of invaluable help to you, and you to me." Taking a deep breath he continued, "Please. Let me work with you."

"As you wish," he said with a decided lack of enthusiasm at the idea.

"Thank you," Raoul nodded graciously.

He would get his gun from his carriage and he would join them. Inwardly, Raoul cursed his poor judgment at coming to visit the police station in a carriage instead of on horse back. But that wasn't a problem; if they didn't have an extra horse, he would free one of the horses that pulled the carriage and ride him. It was the first time that he felt really close to finding his brother and Christine. He just prayed that it wasn't too late.

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_She sat in a beautiful garden, fields of green covering the earth like a glorious carpet. The winds blew gently; their cool arms caressing her skin as the willows swayed like waterfalls or swirls of mist. There were flowers and roses everywhere, and there was a beautiful silver stream of pure water flowing softly through the garden. She sat there by the stream, looking at the blue skies and reveling in the gentle touch of the sun. She plucked a flower and brought it close to her nose, inhaling its beautiful scent. She lifted her head as she heard her name whispered on the wind. _

"_Angel," she whispered in reply, her voice trembling. Her Angel had come for her, at last! The voice continued calling to her, mesmerizing her. But when she tried to reach it, it was gone. Suddenly out of the shadows, a dark figure emerged. She whimpered and tried to get up. The flower wilted in her hands and the breeze turned cold. "Who-who are you?" she asked, but the figure didn't answer, just kept walking toward her, as she waited in horror, unable to get up, escape or run._

"Mademoiselle, lunch is ready," a man's voice called out, as a loud knock resounded on the door.

Christine gasped and bolted upright on the bed, her hands flying to her chest, while trying to calm her beating heart and ragged breaths. "It was only a bad dream," she whispered to herself. "Only a bad dream." In a louder voice she replied, "Coming!" She scooted to the edge of the bed and got up, making her way tentatively toward the door. Apparently she had been more tired than she had thought, for she had fallen asleep as soon as she had laid down on the bed to relax.

Opening the door, Christine took the tray from the man, smiled at him and thanked him. As she kicked the door closed behind her, she couldn't help looking over her shoulder, as a chill crept up her spine. Why did she feel as if Erik were nearby?

_It was only a bad dream_, she reminded herself. She brushed the strange feeling aside, and sat down to eat her lunch.

After lunch, Christine knocked on Madame and Meg's door, only to be told by Madame that Meg was retching again. Christine hoped that Meg would soon be better. Knowing that there was nothing she could do to help – Madame had everything under control as usual - she told Madame that she was going to have a look around town, and pass by the church. Madame told her to be careful, and not to stay out long. Christine heeded the advice and left.

Once she stepped outside, a cool breeze hit her face as she rubbed her arms in an attempt to ward off the chill. She wished that she had a cloak, but she didn't. She was still wearing the dress that Erik had given her. Well, that couldn't be remedied now, but soon she would find a job and dispose of everything that Erik had given her, including the ring. Her heart thumped in her chest as she looked down at her left hand, at the ring on her finger. She knew that she should remove it, but she simply hadn't brought herself to do it yet… every time she tried, something stopped her. She thought perhaps she wasn't ready to admit that she was breaking her word, or more precisely that Erik had broken his vows to her so completely. _Tonight_, she thought determinedly, she would remove the ring that night.

She stopped at a few shops, looking into their windows and sometimes entering, to look at a dress or some shoes or trinkets. She also passed by the bookstore, where she spent the most time, just looking at all the books available, and quickly thumbing through some of them. She hoped to one day have a library in her own home, which would contain as many books as possible. She simply loved to read. After she returned the last book that she had been looking at to the shelf, she sighed and quietly made her way back outside to the street.

Then she steadily made her way to the church.

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He watched her through the shadows, and watched everyone around her to make sure that she wasn't followed by any of his enemies. He shook his head at Madame's bad judgment for allowing Christine go out alone. Soon, he would have her again in his arms. She had sworn vows with him and whether she liked it or not, he was going to hold her to those vows. She would learn never to put herself in danger again.

She appeared to be heading to the church, and he moved, following her like the ghost that he was, unnoticed and seemingly invisible.

The time had come…

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Trying to calculate the time, she had barely been out for about an hour; she hadn't stayed for too long, she hoped. As it happened, the church was at the outskirts of the village, somewhat isolated, and close to the nearby woods.

The wind blew, and as Christine stood at the bottom of the few steps that led up to the open doors, she felt a sense of peace wash over her. Just as her foot rested on that first step, she felt chilled again. She turned around and looked at her surroundings, just to make sure that she wasn't being watched, and yet the feeling wouldn't abate. For the first time since arriving at this place, she actually felt fear. Quickly, she stumbled up the steps of the church, running toward its open doors.

Just as she reached the top of the stairs, an arm reached out and wrapped around her waist, effectively holding her arms captive as well, while the other gloved hand came over her mouth, turning her scream into a muffled whimper. She kicked in the air as she was lifted off her feet. She tried to fight to break free; she strained against her captor's iron grip in a blind panic but it was useless. She was carried down the steps and away from the church, into the surrounding woods. Tears spilled down her cheeks. She felt trapped, helpless, but surprisingly the arm didn't cause her any pain. It was as if her captor was exercising the utmost care to keep her in his grasp without hurting her.

She was getting more tired by the minute, her struggles turning weaker and weaker. It was hopeless. She tried to scream again, but with his hand over her mouth, it came out a pitiful squeak. Christine sobbed and went limp against her captor, knowing as she laid her head back on his shoulder, that it was Erik. There was no escape.

Suddenly, he let go and she tumbled to the ground on her hands and knees. She turned around to a sitting position on the grass, and looked up to meet Erik's glittering eyes.

"You!" she whispered

Erik grit his teeth. The fear he saw in her eyes… the hurt, made him angry and made him feel a peculiar kind of pain. Christine watched him apprehensively, waiting with bated breath for him to say something. He stood there, looking eerily calm and then with one quick movement, he removed his cloak. She gasped as she saw dried blood on his hurt shoulder, but didn't ask what had caused it or if his wound had reopened. _What do I_ _care?_ she reminded herself.

When she felt that she was strong enough, she started to get up. Erik's hand shot out to her shoulder, pushing her back down to a sitting position. "Stay," he said softly, very softly. Christine tried to swallow but her mouth had turned dry, and she thought her heart would beat right out of her chest at any moment. It was not a request.

She blinked back more tears, as she watched Erik begin to unbutton his shirt. She watched for a moment in confusion, before she began to realize what he meant to do.

"What are you doing?!" she asked horrified

He didn't reply, he simply looked at her, his eyes burning. Christine struggled to rise again, but in a flash Erik left his shirt half unbuttoned, knelt beside her on one knee, and held her by the arm, while slipping his other hand behind her neck and tilting her head back. Christine frantically pushed against his chest. A small cry escaped her lips as his mouth slammed against hers. He pushed her back down, so that now he was lying on top of her, as she struggled beneath him. There was no gentleness in his kiss, no tenderness or emotion; it was as though his intent to teach her a lesson and his keen need of her had mixed together. He ran his hand up her side. She beat against his chest, and struggled to break free. Her cries against his mouth turned to whimpers, as he inserted his tongue into her mouth. He could still feel her pushing frailly against his shoulders. He began to nudge her knees apart, but then he stopped, shaking himself mentally. He didn't want to carry this too far. He hadn't even touched her breasts. And he wouldn't. He believed that he had already gotten his point across, if her struggles were any indication. He wrenched himself away from her and quickly stood up, buttoning his shirt. She lay on the ground looking shattered, tears streaming down her face. She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth.

Oh, how he wanted to hold her close, to reassure her, but not now, first there were things that needed to be said. Christine watched in a mixture of shock, relief, and confusion, as instead of removing his shirt, he began buttoning it again.

"Don't ever disobey me again." Just five words said in a deadly calm voice, and Christine shuddered. How strongly they hit her.

Christine fought to stop crying, trying as best she could to wipe her tears away. Grabbing her by the shoulders Erik hauled her to a sitting position, as another small cry escaped her lips. He shook her slightly as he continued. "Do you realize what could have happened to you, if any of Lucienne's men had gotten hold of you? Do you?" he repeated in a louder tone that made her flinch through her tears. "What I just did is nothing compared to what they would have done to you!" He was almost roaring now.

"W-whatever they would have d-done," Christine replied choking on her sobs, "t-they couldn't have h-hurt me as much as y-you!".

Her words were like a slap in his face, and his grip on her arms loosened for a moment. Christine wrenched away from his grip and struggled to get to her feet. She turned on Erik, who had gotten up as well, and shouted, "Why did you come for me? So you can insult me some more? Was my humiliation not enough for you?" Waving her hand angrily, she then hugged herself protectively, her tone calming a little, shaky and sad. "Or is it that you still need me for some more amusement?"

The way she said the last sentence was what impaled his heart the most. There was such defeat and hurt in her voice, and resignation, when she had stated those last words. At least in the beginning, she had been angry, alive; now she looked broken. Erik shook his head slightly as he ran his hand though his hair, then sighed. He abruptly bent down and fetched his cloak off the ground. Using that moment, Christine almost flew past him, in an attempt to escape, but his hand shot out and he grabbed her by the arm swinging her around. His eyes blazed as he said, "Don't you ever try to run away from me." Bringing his face down to her, so that they were nose to nose, he continued, "I pegged you for a woman of your word, not someone who breaks her vows. I guess I was wrong."

"I did not break my vows, you did. You broke your vows to me. L-let go of me!" she shouted.

"Damn it, woman!" Erik's voice was rising in anger again as he gripped her by the arm, while she twisted to break free of his grip. "You could try the patience of a saint! Don't you understand that what I said in front of those men was nothing other than show, a lie, so that they wouldn't think that you meant anything to me, because if they had realized that I cared for you even in the least, they would have used you against me and in horrible ways!"

Christine's struggles died down as the weight of Erik's words hit her. As he spoke the last word, Erik hauled her toward him. She gasped. Her body slammed against his, every inch of her molded into him. He used his other hand to firmly but gently grab her by the chin and tilt her head up so that she was looking at his eyes. She looked at him, speechless, as she fought to absorb what he was telling her.

"It was the only way, the surest way I could think of to save you, to keep you safe." His tone had calmed, his gaze softened, as his grip on her chin loosened. He moved his hand ever so slightly, so that he was running his thumb gently across her tear streaked cheek. "Do you think that I make vows with just any woman? If I just wanted to use you, Christine, I would have already done so." Then he swallowed before he decided to continue. "I love you. I could never harm you in any way," he said softly, so softly that that last sentence was almost inaudible. His voice was so beautiful as it washed over her. He let go his grip of her arm and gently ran the fingers of his hand up and down her arm, so that now she had every opportunity to pull away, to turn her back on him.

Erik had always secretly believe that there was some good in him. He had only killed evil men, who had ruined many lives. But he had also accepted work from evil men, when he was young and hotheaded and his judgment was lacking, men such as Lucienne. At the time, he had convinced himself that he didn't care one way or the other. The truth was that he cared very much, and that was why he had left Lucienne shortly after accepting work from him. He knew that he would have to atone for his past sins until the day he died. Knowing that Christine thought him capable of so coldly taking advantage of her, hurt Erik unexpectedly. He was used to people always thinking the worst of him. But this time he couldn't just treat it with indifference. He found that he cared very much about what this woman thought of him.

Christine thought she would faint as the meaning of Erik's words sank in. He hadn't meant any word of what he had said in front of those men… Could it be possible? Looking at his eyes through the shimmer of her tears, Christine was struck by the love she saw there. Just as quickly as she felt herself start to melt into him, she gave herself a firm mental shake, because even if what he had said was the truth, there were still many things that needed to be sorted out between them.

She gathered every once of courage she had, fighting with every fiber of her will not to just sink into his embrace and forget the world and everyone in it. She swallowed, looked deeper into Erik's eyes, and said, "But I barely know anything about you, and you won't even share a little bit of yourself with me. So why should I trust you?" As she pushed away from his embrace, every fiber of her being mourned the loss and safety she had felt in Erik's arms. She hugged herself, suddenly feeling very cold without his arms around her. She raised her chin and continued firmly, "Without trust, there can be no love."

His breath stilled for a moment and he knew that there was no running away from the past. He had never shared his childhood with anyone except Ned. He decided the best course of action was to give her a quick overview of his life. It wasn't that he didn't trust her; it was that he loved her too much to ever burden her or taint her with his past. But there was no harm in sharing with her, the important parts of his life. He didn't want her to go on believing that he didn't trust her. And he also wanted to get away from that place as soon as possible, not just because he hated Rouen, but also because being here was an unnecessary risk to himself and to her. Though Erik had made sure that no one had followed her other than himself, he still had an uneasy feeling. For now, her huge, wounded gaze was more important than his over-protectiveness. Besides, he was with her; if anything happened he would protect her, with his life if need be.

Taking a deep breath, and feeling as if he were about to enter a battle zone of memories, he whispered, "I was born here, Christine… here in Rouen."

Christine's jaw dropped in shock, as Erik led her to a large oak tree. He spread his cloak on the ground and sat her down there, then he seated himself beside her. Both their backs rested side by side on the thick tree trunk. His gaze was distant, and he was silent for a moment.

Fate, it seemed had led him full circle back to this place…well, so be it…he had her with him…and nothing and no one would take her away…

_Fate links thee to me forever and a day…_


	25. Chapter 25

Hello everyone, I now present to you the new chapter of (Angels and Roses). A note to you my lovely readers: this chapter deals mostly with Erik's past, this is basically based on Leroux's hinting and my imagination since Leroux leaves Erik's history very vague. So I made up this storyline, so basically this is my version of Erik's history. It is different than anything you may have read before. I hope that you will enjoy it. Tell me what you think!

**Chapter 25 (The Village) Part Two**

The year 1847

He was suffocating as the strong, pungent smell of smoke assailed him; everything was on fire around him. His mother was rocking herself back and forth, in an uncomprehending haze, her eyes glazed over and hollow, humming a tune to herself as the house was lit with flames. He could hear the shouts and sneers from outside. He ran to his mother's side and knelt beside her, his masked face beseeching, his golden eyes brimming with tears.

"We need to get out! The house is burning down!" the eight year old boy exclaimed, frightened and lost. He swiftly rose to his feet and began looking for a way out, but it seemed that everywhere he looked, flames surrounded him. Looking back at his non-responsive mother, he yelled, "Come on, let's get out!" But his mother did not respond; she continued to be seated in her favorite chair, wearing her favorite shawl, looking hollowly into nothingness, rocking and humming a song that he usually sang to her to calm her when she got into a hysterical fit.

Running back to his mother, he grabbed her cold hand and began to tug furiously, sweat dripping from him like water, his breathing labored. The air was so thick with smoke now that he couldn't breathe properly, and he felt his lungs starting to burn. Ironically it was the mask that was protecting him from suffocating or collapsing in the smoke. But his mother would not budge; he shoved and pulled, but she remained unmoving.

"Please," the boy sobbed desperately, but his young age was no match for her stubbornness, and he simply didn't have the strength to pull her off the chair and carry her to safety.

It was the first time he had cried. Even at such a young age, he had learned to be strong and dead to any emotion. But now tears streamed down his face, wetting his cloth mask, a mask that had been cut and put together with the clumsy hands of a 6 year old. He had made it by adjusting the length of what had been his pillow cover, and cutting holes into it, after the mask that his mother had given him - his first mask - had gotten torn.

He could hear the crowd of people cheering and sneering outside, as they watched the house they had set on fire burn - with the monster in it.

There was no way out, and he wouldn't leave without his mother. Taking a shaky sigh, the boy silently looked around, before doing something he had never dared do before. He climbed into his mother's lap. In her state, she wouldn't know. The little boy sobbed again, tears of a joy so deep, a grief so immeasurable, and a peace so profound streamed down his deformed cheeks, as he laid his covered head on his mother's shoulder. He had finally gotten to feel his mother's warmth around him, to finally feel what it would be like to sit in a mother's lap, and to feel safe. He was so utterly broken, and yet so deeply at peace, for he would get to die with her. At last, they would rest.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "It's my entire fault."

The flames were gaining on them; parts of the roof top began to crumble. Straightening in his mother's lap, he looked up at the falling rooftop with blazing eyes. Then he looked at his mother's hollow eyes, knowing that the time was close, they would die very soon. Acting purely on impulse, he wrapped his thin arms around her neck and hugged her, his thin body trembling with all the emotions rolling through him. It was the first hug he had ever been able to give her - and it would be the last.

Suddenly, her eyes weren't lifeless, and shock ran through him, as her gaze met his. His breath caught, his body tensed and he eased his grip on her. Fully expecting her to look shocked and horrified, he braced himself for her scream and look of revulsion, but instead she did something that he would never forget, she smiled. She had smiled at him! And then proceeded to do something even more shocking, she wrapped her arms around him, as the house began to crash around them. That his poor unhappy mother was actually hugging him, whether knowingly or not, was something the boy would never get to know.

"My monster," the woman whispered lovingly, in her insanity. The boy's joy at being hugged was torn in a moment, but he quickly recovered. She had hugged him and she had smiled at him! That was what was important! So, she had called him a monster, but it was true after all, he couldn't blame her for calling him what he was.

Desperately wanting to spare his mother pain, as he heard the flames swooshing toward them and felt their furious heat, the boy began to sing to her, thinking to ease her suffering. Perhaps if his voice was controlling her, she would be so entranced that she wouldn't feel any pain. He remembered all the times that she had told him that his voice was a curse and gift, that it was heaven and hell. For just this once, he prayed for a miracle. He had prayed only once before, when he had been five. He had prayed for God to make him beautiful so that his mother wouldn't be so sad and angry anymore… so that she would love him…

And now he prayed with desperation. He prayed as he sang that his mother wouldn't feel any pain. And in that moment his mother's eyes became sober. She looked around and screamed as she saw the flames. Instead of pushing him away, she again did something he would never forget all his life - she fell to the ground covering him wholly with her body. It was too late to try to save her now, or himself, so he just continued to sing, despite the wheezing, he sang… despite his burning lungs, he sang… despite everything… he heard his mother sigh in contentment as he continued to sing… then everything went dark, just after the last note… a deathly silence fell like a veil of midnight…

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The breeze blew through the trees, making their leaves rattle. He felt cold and dead inside, and yet he wondered why it still hurt to remember.

"I was born here in Ruoen, Christine," Erik repeated distantly, as he rested his back on the trunk of the oak tree. His gaze fell on a weeping willow that was swaying in the breeze, its branches like waterfalls of evergreen. He swallowed and continued in a detached tone, turning his attention to Christine, who sat quietly listening. "My mother, my poor unhappy mother, she suffered a lot because of me."

"Why?" Christine asked, genuinely curious.

Erik smiled slightly and looked down at her. "You're the only one I know who would ask me that question. I don't deserve you." He ran his thumb up and down her cheek to her lips and continued calmly, "My face, Christine… my cursed face was the reason my mother had such a hard time raising me." Swallowing hard, he continued, "She was a good woman and she loved mein her own way"_…_ _she died saving my wretched life_, he continued silently.

He removed his hand from her cheek and returned to looking into the distance in front of him as he rested his arms on his raised knees. Christine hugged herself, feeling suddenly cold and heartbroken.

"When I was eight, I left home…my mother had died…and I had no one and nothing left…" He fought to remain as calm and detached as possible as he continued, knowing how many painful details he had skipped, but that was all she would know. He would never want to subject her to that knowledge of horror. "You must understand, Christine, that I had no one to tell me right from wrong, and I was treated like a thing to be feared and reviled ever since I was born, so when I became on my own, I began to learn things, and then I started doing things that I am not proud of."

"What kind of things?" Christine asked quietly, but he could hear the dread in her voice, and a small smile tugged at his lips. His beautiful, innocent Christine…_the kind of things you will never know about_…

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The year 1847

"Shame on you," the Reverend raged at the crowd of people, as he and several other people from the village who weren't part of that mob, rushed frantically with buckets of water to put out the blistering flames. When the flames had been put out, the reverend turned to the shame-faced mob and continued, outraged, "How dare you behave in such a manner! You shame this village!" That small crowd of people stood there looking like scolded children. The group that had arrived with the vicar started searching frantically among the rubble to see if anyone had survived.

One red-faced man finally came forward to the defense of the group as he stated, "Well, we were just ridding this town of its curse! You should know how much we have been suffering, ever since this woman and her son arrived! No crops, no rain, no new business! A con man even passed by here robbing most of us blind! It's all that woman's fault and her demon of a child!"

"Silence! You will not call - "

The Reverend's retort was cut short as one of the men who were looking through the rubble yelled, "The boy is alive!"

"Thank the Lord!" the Reverend exclaimed as he hurried toward the man carrying the tattered bundle of a masked child. The crowd responsible for the fire murmured unintelligibly. Some were angered that the child hadn't died, others where just annoyed; while others in the group felt relieved that not all had died, since guilt had started to nag at them. The second group cheered that at least one of the two were alive.

Days passed, as they took care of the boy in the church. While the boy's physical wounds were not severe, he remained silent. He never spoke to anyone; he never uttered a sound. He just ate, drank and slept. It seemed as if he were dead. The reverend became more and more concerned after two weeks had passed and not a sound from the boy, or any flicker of emotion in his eyes. Then one crisp autumn day, the boy vanished. Extremely worried, they searched for him for days, but the boy was never to be found again…they had later found his mask and some tattered clothes, washed ashore, and assumed that he had drowned…and so the tragic tale had come to an end…or so was thought…

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Looking at Christine, he wondered how he should answer her question…Instead he chose to ignore it. "Later, I traveled with the gypsies for a while, I had my own freak show."

"W-what freak show?" Christine uttered, horrified by the prospect. He turned the full impact of his piercing eyes on her and said coldly, "Why, I put myself on display. Nothing better than to make money from myself, don't you think?"

Christine gasped, not just by the prospect of him putting himself on display, but by how coldly he discussed the subject, as if it mildly amused him.

Not liking the horrified look in her eyes, for the last thing he wanted to do was upset her, Erik quickly changed the subject to something good. "Would you like to know about the mirror box I finished, when I met the blind old man Leponte?"

She swallowed and nodded, for that was all she could say. In that moment, Christine knew that Erik was leaving some important parts out…_something to be reviled and feared…put himself on display in a freak show_…Something was very hauntingly tragic about this entire picture, and Christine felt a lump in her throat. Erik must have suffered a lot…and knowing how hard it must be for him to talk about it, and he was doing it just for her, made her want…His voice cut her train of thought.

"I first met Leponte when I was thirteen…"

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Madame hurried down the street to visit Richard Firmin, to consult him about her daughter's condition. As she made her way through town, to her old friend's shop, she realized that she had done a grave mistake by allowing Christine to go out alone. She should have told her to stay in her room, but at the time she had been so absorbed with what was going on with Meg that she had not paid attention to Christine's request as she should have. Anyway, she swore to herself that as soon as she got back from Richard Firmin's place, with the medication for her daughter, she would look for Christine. Madame could only hope that Christine would have returned by then.

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Meg closed her eyes, as she lay on the bed feeling weak and spent. Something was wrong; she knew that much. She shouldn't be feeling like this… She placed her arm over her eyes and fought to stifle a bitter smile, as if she needed something else now, when everything else had gone so awfully, horribly wrong. Madame was not with her; she had gone to a man she called Richard Firmin to get his advice and several herbal concoctions and medicines for Meg. She had left Meg with strict orders to rest and not to leave the room, not that Meg would leave this room even if she could. She sighed and rolled to her side, thinking about everything that had happened so far; she didn't think she could hurt any more. So absorbed in her thoughts was she, that it took her several moments to notice that a shadow had fallen across her, blocking the light from the window. Her body stiffened and her heart stopped beating for a moment. In that instant she feared opening her eyes, for fear of who she would see in her room. Then she felt a warm, familiar hand gently touch her tear stained cheek. She couldn't control her reaction, and her eyes flew open, as she gasped at the sight of Ned standing by her bed and smiling down at her. She bolted upright in bed, causing his wonderful touch to disappear, as he withdrew his hand from her cheek.

"What are you doing here?" Meg inquired sharply.

Ned was taken aback by her tone, before replying in a matter of fact tone, "I am here for you. Why else?"

Meg hurried to the edge of the bed and wrestled with the covers as she stood up to face him.

"Well, I don't want you here," she stated coldly.

She blinked several times, trying very hard not to break down in front of him and start crying. Her lower lip was trembling, so she bit it to stop the trembling. But when her eyes met Ned's, he had such a tender, keen and knowing look in his eyes, that for a moment she hated him for it.

"I realize that I should have told you this before, but…" he stated as he began walking toward her, causing her to inch backward. "I guess there is no better time than now." Meg's heart beat so quickly that she thought it had become one big heart beat, and her legs trembled as her back hit the wall. He continued toward her. Looking quickly around, she tried to make a move for the door, but his arms flanked her, as they hit either side of the wall next to her, effectively trapping her.

Meg's breathing became shallow, her emotions so jumbled, that she didn't know if she wanted to run away from him screaming or to hug him and melt into him. Looking at her, Ned's heart expanded with so much love. A fierce urge to protect her overcame him; when her beautiful haunted eyes met his, he wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and keep her safe. She was his… the other part of him… and he confessed, "I love you, Meg. I think that I fell in love with you the first time you opened your beautiful eyes and looked at me. I was just too stupid to realize it."

Meg's eyes filled with tears; he had never said the words to her. Not that they had had a chance, with everything happening so quickly. She felt elated in that moment, a feeling that she had not felt for a long time, and yet a feeling of fear crept up her spine as well.

Then he brought his hands down to caress her arms, as he gently drew her even closer to him. "I have told you this before but I guess it bears saying again. I hope you know that I would never hurt or harm you in any way. As a matter of fact, I promise you that no one will ever hurt you again, not as long as I have anything to say about it."

"I - I don't know anything about you," she whispered as he leaned toward her, his lips getting closer to hers. She felt his warm breath on her face. Her entire body tingled with a need so deep, she ached with it, and yet she feared it. "H -how do I know that you won't h - hurt me?" she squeaked.

His lips were a scant inch from hers. He answered hoarsely, "I'll tell you everything you want to know about me, but first" he caressed her cheek lovingly "I really, really need to kiss you."

"But –" her breathy whisper was cut short as his lips caressed hers and every coherent thought deserted her. She whimpered and opened her mouth to him. But that glimpse of heaven was not to last.

"Get away from her," a threatening, calm voice said - firmly enunciating each word and syllable - from behind the lovers, and a click of a revolver could be heard. Meg stiffened instantly at the sound of her mother's voice. She pushed away from Ned, who in turn calmly turned around to face Madame's wrath.

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The year 1852,

For five years, Erik had lived on the streets, singing for money. He made a good living, and no one knew where he lived or why he wore a mask. Some gypsies had tried to approach him and convince him to join their fair, but Erik had refused at the time and ran away from them before they had a chance to grab him. He had remained moving from place to place, like a leaf blown in the wind. He didn't talk to any one; he shopped during the evening and no one ever asked him if he had parents or about his family. However, rumors where running wild about the mysterious masked child who sang on the streets, who had the voice of an angel. And since Erik rarely stayed in one place for long, no one could inquire more about him.

When he returned to his hideout at night, which was nothing more than a small rundown cottage, he went back to working on his secret invention, the only bright spot in Erik's life, something he had been working on ever since he had run away from Rouen. It was a small box lined with small mirrors which Erik had made from pieces of broken glass, in which a person could look inside and see a dream… a room of beautiful illusion, a place were a hideous monster could seem beautiful. Erik had hopes of turning this mini structure into a full blown room, a room of beautiful wonder and illusion.

Then one warm spring day, Erik had met the old blind man, Leponte, who had stopped and listened to Erik singing on the street. Leponte had returned the next day, and the next, always hitting his cane on the ground before removing some money from his pockets and giving them to the boy. On the fourth day, the blind man finally spoke. "What's your name, boy?"

A moment of silence passed before Erik replied. "Erik." That was the first time that Erik had spoken to another human being, after his mother's death. Leponte had inquired about Erik's age and where he lived; Erik told him that he was thirteen but did not answer the question as to where he lived. Then Leponte had stated that Erik's singing had given him hope and brightened up his day.

Then he had come the next day and talked to Erik again. He told Erik that he had been an architect in his younger days, before he had become blind. Erik had expressed his interest in architecture and so Leponte offered Erik an invitation to come to his house to look at all the drawings and designs for several buildings, houses, and churches that Leponte had done in his younger days. Erik hesitated, but his curiosity finally won out. And so it was the Erik started to visit the old man once a week for a few hours. He also began to nurture his architectural skills as he studied Leponte's drawings and designs and then worked on his as well. Leponte gave him some invaluable advice on the art of architecture. Leponte's house was big and luxurious; it was also beautifully designed. The maids always offered Erik food and drink but he rarely ate or drank anything; he just wanted to observe all the art as he roamed the halls and rooms. Leponte allowed him to roam through his house while he sat by the fire waiting for Erik to come and tell him about his latest architectural discovery in the house.

Then Leponte had introduced Erik to one of his peers, a man named Monchirmin. Monchirmin was not blind and was taken aback by the sight of the masked boy. Leponte asked Monchirmin to look at Erik's drawings and see if Erik was as talented as he suspected. For the first time, Erik felt excited, knowing that he might have finally found something to do with his life, become an architect! So thrilled was the boy, that he failed to see Monchirmin's distaste. However the man couldn't be impolite so as to refuse his blind friend's request, so he followed Erik into the drawing room, where Erik finally dared to show his most secret invention to someone.

"What in the world is this?" the man scoffed at the sight of the old box, lined with broken glass on the inside.

"Oh monsieur, just wait for the lighting, and I will show you. This is a room of illusion, where a person can see the most beautiful things," the boy stated, hardly able to keep the excitement from his voice.

Monchirmin scoffed, not believing the boy, for such an invention had never been heard of before and was so farfetched that he was convinced that Erik was lying and that such a thing was only caught in the fanciful thoughts of a boy. He abruptly rose from his chair and said, "Listen, boy, I don't have time to waste on you or your fanciful stories. You may have some talent, but with a face like yours, you will never find a job." Erik stood there speechless. In one moment he was overtaken with hope and in the next, he felt as if he had crashed back to earth. The man waved his hand and stated, "Do you think I am stupid? Wasting my time with a joke of an invention, such as this!" and with one swing of his hand, unmeaning though he was, he hit the old box which Erik had been working on for years, causing the box to topple over and crash to the floor.

Erik stood there like a statue, his eyes not leaving the destroyed box.

"My apologies, I didn't mean to crash it. But get your head out of the clouds. No amount of wishful thinking will change what you are. You can not change reality with fanciful thoughts." With those parting cold words, the man left, crashing with him the last remnants of any hope Erik might have had.

That was the last visit Erik had paid to Leponte, no longer interested to talk or think about architecture. But as he had left Luponte's house that evening, he was surprised to see Monchirmin awaiting him outside with two other men. Before Erik had time to react, they had grabbed him and smothered him with chloroform. Erik awoke to find himself chained to a surgical table, For the next year, he would be tortured by being caged and beaten to see how he would react, how quickly he would heal… he would be starved for days, without food or water to see how long he could go on.

Erik had realized too late that he had been sold by Monchirmin to a so called scientist, one who enjoyed studying strange creatures. When Erik had finally escaped, he had killed that mad scientist; it had been Erik's first kill. He had chained the man to his own surgical table and ripped him apart with his bare hands. Then he had visited Monchirmin in his house and killed him as well.

Then for the next months, the monster had roamed the streets at night, where people talked of a masked ghost that howled at the moon at night, and killed without a thought. It was after those months that Erik began to regain his mind, and then he remembered that there was something very important he still hadn't done. He needed to finish planning his revenge against those who had killed his mother.

He berated himself for having wasted time on thoughts of becoming an architect, for associating with humans. What had that gotten him other than broken dreams and being caged like an animal to be studied and experimented on for a year? If he hadn't wasted time with those humans, he would have exacted his revenge on those who had killed his mother.

But now he had all the time in the world, and, he giggled, it was going to be wonderful! He would kill them all…kill them all…

In the year 1855, the village of Rouen lived a phase of horror, in which a ghostly masked siren was said to have visited those people who had burnt down the monster's house, luring them to their deaths with his voice. When some of them tried to escape, they were later found hanging from trees in the outskirts of Rouen. Not one man was spared out of that group of those who had cheered and sneered. It was said that Erik's spirit had come back to haunt the town for the great injustice that he had suffered…It was said that a phantom had come to extract justice on the murderers that had killed a defenseless child and its mother…many things were said…but one thing was true…Rouen would never be the same again…

When his mission was accomplished, Erik had left, traveling aimlessly, wherever the wind took him. He met a gypsy fair and decided to accompany them, for which he proceeded for the next three years to display himself in a unique show…the people would get to see the Angel of Death…the monster with an angel's voice…for a price… it amused him so to see them gasp in shock when they saw the face, after he had sung for them…

Then in Constantinople he was arrested and brought to the king, where he was asked to build a new castle for the king. But Erik had not stayed to see the castle built, he had escaped before that. He then had worked briefly as an assassin in India. And when he had finally gotten back to France, 21 year old Erik met Lucienne, and he accepted work from him. Lucienne had told him that he had heard of his fame and that he would pay him well for his services. He wanted something special of Erik; he wanted Erik to build him a torture chamber. Erik had coldly stated that it would cost Lucienne a great deal of money, to which Lucienne had replied, "Oh, I can pay."

And so Erik turned that idea of a room filled with dreams, which he had initially meant for beauty… into a torture chamber.

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"A room of dreams, how strange!" Christine exclaimed. Erik was relieved that she looked excited now and smiling. He was willing in that moment to rebuild his original idea, just to show it to Christine.

"I just don't understand. Why didn't you continue visiting that kind old blind man? He might have helped you find work as an architect."

"I didn't want to impose on his hospitality any longer," Erik replied casually, lying through his teeth. "Not to mention that I wouldn't have gotten a job anywhere because of my face."

Christine bit her lip and looked at Erik before asking cautiously, "So what happened to that room of dreams? I would like to see it."

"I stopped working on it a long, long time ago." Turning to look at her, he continued, "But for you, I would rebuild it."

"I - I would love to see it one day." Erik caressed her cheek and Christine's breath swooshed out of her lungs. As she looked into Erik's eyes, she was struck by the look of utter sorrow that appeared there, only for a moment, before disappearing. He touched the tip of her nose with his finger and smiled slightly.

"So what is it that you do for a living?" Christine asked, tilting her head, so that her cheek was completely caressed by his palm.

Erik thought about that for a moment before he replied, "As you know, I displayed myself in the freak show, with the gypsies and I made a lot of money from that. I also made a lot of money designing one of the castles in Constantinople. Then I came back to France and I worked here for different men doing different things. Now I have my own" he thought about it for a moment before continuing "firm, if you may. People pay me, to send someone to protect them. Some very prominent figures from different countries have wanted me to protect them myself, but I never did…will never do so."

"Why don't you protect them yourself?"

"No one can afford me…my services are not for sale…" he replied casually

It was the irony of how he had turned from an assassin to founding a firm for security services…but that was another story for another time…

Christine bit her lower lip before she asked, "And how did you meet Ned?"

Erik started to respond, when he heard a branch snap a few feet away from where they were seated. In a flash he had grabbed Christine, who squeaked, but he placed his hand on her mouth cutting the sound off. He dragged her behind the tree and then bent down to whisper in her ear: "Don't make a sound."

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"Madame," Ned said calmly, looking at Madame and at the barrel of the gun she held in her hand, pointing it directly at his heart

"Don't you ever touch my daughter again," Madame replied. "I could kill you for what you did to her."

Ned frowned, not completely understanding what Madame was going on about.

"Maman, please!" Meg cried. "He wasn't doing anything. I let him kiss me."

"Indeed, you did!" Madame snapped. "And apparently you let him do a lot more than that to you!" Madame's voice dripped with rage.

"W - what do you mean?" Meg asked confused.

"Madame, you have no reason to doubt me or Meg - "

Madame cut off Ned's statement, almost shouting, "Of course, especially not when she's pregnant!"

Ned's entire body stiffened and Meg swayed on her feet. Her mouth opened but she couldn't speak, before completely passing out.


	26. Chapter 26

Hello everyone, I hope that you all had a wonderful vacation! Happy New Year! (hugs to all!).

And now my lovelies, I present to you the new chapter of Angels and Roses. This chapter features a lot of interaction between Erik and Christine, and Ned and Meg. I wanted to give Erik and Christine some light moments, I hope that you will like it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Meg and Ned are dealing with some heavy stuff in this chapter.

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**Chapter 26: (The Village) Part Three**

Christine went still in Erik's arms, as she saw that he listened intently. The wind continued to blow gently and the leaves to rustle in the trees. Erik's grip on Christine loosened, as the sound of steps became more pronounced. There was a low snarl and a high pitched bark. Erik rested his head against the tree trunk, a low chuckle escaping his lips. He muttered something under his breath and Christine thought she heard him say, "_I don't believe it._"

As he straightened and moved away from her, Christine asked, "What is it?"

"See for yourself - " Erik replied. Just as he had finished his sentence, a little puppy came sauntering around the tree. Wagging its little white tail, it looked up at Erik and Christine and barked again. Erik looked at the creature with pure disgust. The little mutt played with the hem of Christine's skirt for a moment, and Christine giggled, then it turned its attention to Erik. Erik glared at it, trying to scare it, but the little mutt only got closer to Erik, and placed its two tiny front feet on Erik's lower legs, tongue lolling, as another cheerful bark erupted from the creature. Erik groaned, but before he could bend down and pluck the puppy away from him, Christine crooned as she reached down and picked up the puppy, completely oblivious to Erik's reaction.

"Erik, look! Isn't he just adorable?" she looked up at Erik's eyes, and then couldn't help a soft laugh. "What?" she asked with a gentle smile upon her lips.

"First of all, how do you know it's a 'he'?" Erik stated, now amused and his features softened. "Secondly, it probably has an owner who is looking for it right now. Don't get too attached."

"Letty! Letty!" the sound of a little girl crashing through the brushes reached them. "Where are you?"

Christine moved from behind the tree, and walked toward the girl, who upon spotting Christine with the puppy in her arms, cried with joy. "Oh, Letty, there you are!" The puppy wiggled in Christine's arms, wanting to be put down. Christine bent down and let it go, and the little puppy took off running toward its owner. Christine watched as the cute little girl knelt down and scooped her puppy up, her copper curls falling over her face, her pink dress was messy from walking in the woods and probably falling. "Oh, Letty, I thought I had lost you!" Standing, the girl put Letty down and looked toward Christine. Christine's heart stopped when the girl's huge doe eyes looked at her. The little girl, who seemed no older than 7, ran toward Christine and hugged her legs.

"Thank you for finding my puppy," the adorable little girl said in a heartfelt whisper.

"Oh," Christine cooed lovingly as she knelt down and hugged the little girl closer to her. The girl in turn rested her head on Christine's shoulder. "I'm glad I could help, sweetheart. Your Letty came right to us." Christine pulled away from the girl and stood. She took the little girl's hand in her own as the puppy walked around them, barking cheerfully every now and then. "Where is your mama?" Christine asked.

And like an answer to her question, before the little girl had a chance to reply, a woman's voice reached them. "Charlotte! Charlotte! You come here this instant!" the voice was getting closer, filled with worry. The little girl tugged at Christine's hand excitedly, trying to break out of Christine's grip as she announced, "That's my mama!"

Christine was about to start walking the little girl to her mother, when the sound of Erik clearing his throat reached her. He was standing next to the tree a few feet away; Christine remembered that Erik did not like company. And the woman's voice was really close now, so the little girl wouldn't have any problem running to her mama. Christine bent down and gave the little angel one more hug before she said, "Alright then, run along, go to your mama." The little girl skipped away from the spot where Erik and Christine were, completely oblivious to Erik's presence. "Come on, Letty, let's go!"

The sounds of the puppy and the little girl got farther away from them, and then they heard the sound of the mother's crying, as mother and daughter met. The voices became farther away from them and disappeared completely. Christine didn't notice how still Erik had become.

She turned toward him and said wistfully, without thinking, longing filling her voice, "Oh, Erik, I want a baby of our own," and then proceeded to turn crimson when she realized what she had said.

Erik looked shocked for a moment, but quickly recovered. He knew that he didn't want any children, but anyway, the whole thing was still too early to think about or contemplate. He thought about making a teasing remark to make her blush more, but instead he chose to reply in a way that would not embarrass her. "I think it's a bit too early to think about that. Don't you agree?"

Christine nodded mutely although continuing to blush. Erik chuckled quietly, absurdly pleased that she would want to have a child with him, even though the thought of having a child made him queasy. He gave her his hand and she took it. He bent down to retrieve his cloak, and they began making their way back to town. The last thing Erik wanted was to have the little girl return with her mother to thank them, and then have the mother or child descending into a screaming fit at the sight of him.

Thinking of what she had just said to him and trying desperately to change the subject, Christine tried with, "So, you didn't tell me how you met Ned."

Erik smirked. "I'll tell you that later, Angel, but first - " Erik needed to know something important - "where is my gun?"

Christine blushed again and bit her lip as they continued to walk among the trees and brush toward the church. "Well, I left it in my room at the hotel where Madame took us." Erik lifted Christine over a log, put her down again and they continued walking.

"So?" Erik said seriously, but he was teasing. "I take it you were planning to shoot me on sight?"

Christine gasped and stopped dead in her tracks causing Erik to stop and turn to look at her huge eyes as she whispered, "I could never shoot you!" Her horrified expression turned to one of outrage when she saw Erik's lips twitching and his eyes gleaming mischievously. That he would joke about something like that! "Oh!" Christine huffed as she hit Erik playfully on his arm. "You - you!" Christine sputtered trying to find the right adjective.

Erik gently cupped her cheek, a small crooked smile forming on his lips. "Speechless, are we?"

Christine pulled away from him, rolling her eyes as a small smile slowly appeared on her beautiful face. Erik silently bent down and kissed her gently, lightly, a simple brush of the lips, knowing that if he deepened the kiss now, things would probably get out of control, and he didn't want to make love to her out here, especially not since it would be their first time together. Christine sighed as Erik pulled away and pouted a little that he hadn't kissed her more deeply, Erik chuckled as he turned and started walking again, holding her hand firmly in his. Yes, she was his… and his alone…forever.

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Meg heard her name being called but it was coming from far away. She wanted to call back but the darkness seemed to be engulfing her. She fought to get to the light, a little pin-point of light where the sounds seemed to be coming from.

"Meg, sweetheart, wake up."

Meg whimpered as she continued to reach for the light, and the voice of her beloved. Ned's voice was beautiful and soothing and she loved him. Ned was beside her on the bed, after having carried her there when she fainted. He held her lovingly in his arms. Madame was still very angry, but her worry for her daughter had taken first place and she had gone to see if the hotel had some smelling salts.

Ned gently brushed a strand of hair that had fallen across Meg's soft cheek and placed it behind her ear. Holding her close, her head lying on his chest, he gently rubbed her back. "Meg, love, open your eyes." Meg whimpered again as her eyelids began to flutter. Ned whispered sweet nothings into her ear as he watched her eyes open and she looked at him in disorientation for a moment. She frowned and tried to push away from him. "Ned?" she asked, confused. "What are you - " her inquiry cut itself off. She gasped and sat up, moving away from him as the events of earlier came rushing back to her.

Ned coming for her…her mother pointing a gun at Ned…she was pregnant…pregnant!

"Oh, God!" she wailed as she buried her face in her hands. Ned leaned forward and gently gripped her by the shoulders, pulling her back into his arms. "Shhh, sweetheart, it will be all right, you'll see," he said soothingly. Meg sobbed helplessly into his shoulder. She felt so safe in his arms, as if nothing could harm her, but she couldn't take advantage of him. She knew that they couldn't be together anymore. He deserved someone better. Not someone tainted like her. And with those bitter thoughts burning through her heart, Meg pushed away from him and quickly started wiping away her tears. She knew what she had to do, the quicker the better, because she didn't know how long she would be able to stand her ground.

"Ned, I want you to leave. I don't want to see you again - " her voice almost broke as she said the last word - "ever."

"Nonsense," Ned stated in a confident voice. His reply caught her off guard, causing her to turn back and look at him. He was sitting on the bed, slightly behind her.

"W-what?" she asked, not knowing what to say for a moment. Oh, God, she couldn't keep the charade up much longer; she had to be more convincing, more firm. She couldn't let him see her weakness! She quickly moved to the edge of the bed, gathered all her remaining courage, got up and turned on Ned, who was staring lazily at her, as he got up from the bed as well.

"I mean it, Ned, I don't want to see you again," Meg said firmly, trying to be as convincing as possible.

In a flash Ned was standing in front of her. Before she could say anything, he had grabbed her and pulled her to him, holding her in a strong embrace. Meg tried to wriggle away, knowing that she would break down at his warm, soft, so awfully wonderful touch and the feel of his arms around her making her feel so safe and secure.

"Why can't you just stay away from me?" she shouted. But it was no use; no matter how hard she tried to push away, there simply was no way to break free of his firm grip. She was so broken and tired; she didn't want to fight anymore. Why was he making this so hard? Couldn't he understand that he would be better off without her? She began to weep again, becoming limp in his arms.

"Shhh," Ned whispered soothingly, as he gently lifted her up in his arms and placed her on the bed again. Lying next to her, as he pulled her into his arms again, he said lovingly, "Listen to me, Meg. You are not going to be rid of me that easily. I am here to stay, because I love you."

Meg only cried harder, finally managing to say between sobs, "You don't know what you're s-saying. You d-deserve someone better than me!" she squeaked.

"Hush," Ned said firmly. "I don't want to hear any of this nonsense coming from those pretty lips of yours," he said as he held her even closer to him. God he loved her so much, he ached. His heart broke for her, for what she had been through. And that she would say something like this just broke his heart even more and made him angry. He wished he could kill the men, who did this to her, again. "None of what happened to you is your fault. You are the most amazing, courageous, beautiful woman I have ever met. I love you so much," Ned whispered fiercely. "And just for the record, we are getting married as soon as possible."

Meg laughed in the midst of her tears, as she spoke in a trembling voice, cuddling closer to him. "You're crazy." As she took a deep breath, the tears started again. She buried her face deeper into Ned's chest and whispered brokenly, "Oh, Ned, I'm not amazing or wonderful at all, I wanted this baby dead, the first moment my mother said that I was pregnant. All I feel is resentment for it!" Her voice was becoming shrill. "What kind of person does that make me?"

Ned smoothed her hair and continued to stroke her back and arm gently. "A normal person," he replied. "Meg, the circumstances that led you to this point were horrific. You are allowed to resent this pregnancy." He was quiet for a moment as she continued to weep softly in his arms, before deciding to say, slowly, "As a matter of fact, I know where I can get you a potion, if you want." Meg's breath stopped, as Ned went on cautiously. "It would cause the pregnancy to end."

Meg gasped and sat up and drew away from his arms. "I don't think I can kill it," she whispered, her eyes wide in trepidation.

"Then don't," Ned stated sincerely. "We can raise it together. It will be our child."

"Oh, Ned," Meg cried and threw herself into his arms again. "I don't know if I can do that either. I don't know if I can handle it."

"Listen to me, Meg," Ned whispered soothingly. "Your feelings are still too raw, too uncertain. Wait a few days and then see how you feel about things. I will accept whatever you decide." He continued in a lighter tone, "Except for the wedding, of course. We are getting married as soon as possible, and that's final!"

Meg laughed, a wet laugh into his chest. "You ARE crazy!"

Ned just laughed at that, before saying seriously, "I love you, Marguerite Giry. Don't ever forget that," he said, but as his lips moved closer to hers, the door flew open as a very worried Madame entered with smelling salts in her hands. Ned moved back away from Meg, and Meg turned to look at her frantic mother.

"Oh, those hotel workers could try the patience of a saint! It took them half an hour to find those smelling salts!" Madame stopped dead in her tracks as she saw that her daughter had woken up.

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Phillipe and Armand heard the sounds of approaching hooves and voices. They knew that soldiers were coming their way. Armand wanted to turn around and leave Phillipe there to meet the soldiers, but Phillipe had had a better plan. Armand had told him that they couldn't tell the police that they had caught Joseph Bouquet, because Erik wanted to handle that traitor himself. In addition to that fact, there was no proof that Joseph was involved with the Marquess, or that Joseph had helped fabricate the plot to kidnap the Comte De Changy, which Phillipe initially had wanted to say.

"Over here!" Armand shouted frantically, as the sounds of the coming police officers sounded closer.

"I'll see you later, friend," Armand said under his breath to Phillipe.

"Until later then, stay in touch. Tell Erik, I don't want to have to go looking for his whereabouts," Phillipe stated between labored breaths, teasingly.

"Don't you worry. Erik will come visit you from time to time," Armand grinned.

"Phillipe!" the shout was heard from far away, as a horse from among the coming twenty riders shot forward ahead of all the rest

"Raoul," Phillipe said in a tired voice, looking up as his brother approached.

"I'm so glad that you're all right," Raoul said in obvious relief, as his horse circled his brother's, before looking at Armand. "And who are you?"

"Raoul," Phillipe said. "This is Armand, who found me after I escaped from the Marquess' clutches. He had kidnapped me for ransom."

"That, that bastard!" Raoul shouted, remembering how the Marquess had gone to him pretending not to know where Phillipe was. At that moment, the rest of the police arrived to where the horses were standing.

"Comte, we were looking for you everywhere!" the chief exclaimed, clearly pleased, since his name would become famous now - he had found the Comte! "What happened?"

Phillipe repeated his story of being kidnapped by the Marquess for ransom. Phillipe reminded the police chief that he had told them all several times during the past few years that the Marquess wanted him dead because he wanted his land, land which Phillipe otherwise would not sell. The chief wriggled uncomfortably in his saddle, as he said, "Well, it's not an issue of whether I believed you or not - it was an issue of proof. Without proof, we have nothing to go by to arrest the Marquess."

Phillipe looked at Armand, but Armand didn't know how to answer. They needed to ask Erik first if he would give the documents that proved that Lucienne was involved in an illegal business network, and that the reason he wanted Phillipe's land so badly, was because it was a strategic spot for the moving and loading of the merchandise.

"I'm very tired right now," Phillipe replied wearily. "I just want to rest and then we'll discuss it." His reply had just bought him time, and Armand was pleased.

"Stop harassing my brother," Raoul snapped. "Can't you see he needs immediate medical attention! Let's go."

But the police refused to budge as the chief stated, "Wait! We can't go back now. We need to continue to our destination, where several people heard gun shots."

"Oh, that," Armand was quick to say. "It was just the Comte and I shooting at the perpetrators. You see the Comte was trying to escape from his captors when I happened to be passing by. The Marquess had put two men to guard the Comte. So when I saw the struggle, I decided to help." The chief of police eyed him suspiciously, wondering why he would put himself in danger for the Comte. So Armand added, "I do know about the prize that was placed for anyone who could find the Comte. So I wanted to be the one to deliver him to you safely. I will be waiting for my prize."

"Can we please go now? Can't you see that Phillipe is about to pass out?" Raoul stated with authority. Turning to the police chief, he continued, "And I will have your head if something happens to my brother, because you're standing there wasting time!"

That got the chief's attention. After thinking about it for a moment, he decided that he liked his job too much to take that big a risk, plus it seemed like a plausible explanation on why there was shooting. "All right, men. We are to escort the Comte back to his estate immediately."

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Joseph Bouquet made his way out of the cottage. His legs felt weak, but he knew he had to carry on. His body ached and his face was swollen. It had been hard to free himself of the ropes that had held him to the chair, but Armand and Phillipe hadn't tied him thoroughly, because as usual they had underestimated him. Everyone underestimated him, disrespected him. He was tired of them all, after all the risks he took, trying to make it up the ladder, and they all treated him like scum, as if they were better than he, ha! They would pay, Erik and his men - those bastards! So would Lucienne, for using him without paying him his fair share. He looked around. He knew that Lucienne would not be in a far away place, but he knew that wherever Erik was keeping him, it was what he deserved. Let him suffer and rot as Erik's captive. Joseph knew what a blow it would be to the Marquess's pride, as well as his health.

With an initial plan starting to take form in his devious mind, he started walking to the nearest village. First, he needed medical attention, then he would find Erik. He and his men would pay for knocking him unconscious, for making a fool of him in front of Lucienne's men –no, not Lucienne's men, his men! He was going to take the lead after Lucienne's corpse was found some place. He didn't put himself to all this trouble only to end up someone else's servant. He was going to be the leader when all of this was over! Lucienne was vile and stupid. Joseph knew he would be a better leader.

The Marquess would pay - and Erik would pay.

Walking in a daze, he began to think about the nearest town… where would the nearest town be? He stopped in his tracks, closing his eyes for a moment, as he tried to bring the image of a map into his mind, and then it appeared, he knew where he was going now…he knew where the nearest town was…he would head to Rouen…

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As they walked in the forest, Erik suddenly paused and changed course. Christine gasped, as she saw the wretched and rugged trail Erik was heading for. She was getting tired, and she had thought that they were very close to town, but now Erik seemed to be going in another direction.

"Erik," Christine said between labored breaths. "I can't make it through that terrain! Please, where are we going?" Erik stopped and turned, looking at Christine. She was leaning against his arm.

"I'm sorry," he stated. "I just wanted to show you something." He gently disentangled his hand from hers and wrapped his arm around her, bringing her to rest against his chest. "I'll carry you when the path gets hard. The rough terrain is not too long." He paused, listening as Christine's breathing calmed, before continuing. "But if you're getting tired, we can just continue the way we were going. We're really close to town now."

"A-are you sure you can carry me through that?" Christine asked suspiciously, as she pulled away from him, looking up at his masked face.

Erik smirked. "Would you like to wager?"

Christine shook her head lightly as a smile graced her lips. "And what would we wager on?"

"A kiss," Erik replied lightly.

"Hmm…a kiss," Christine mused playfully.

"There's a catch, Angel. The winner gets to kiss the loser on any body part they please."

Christine frowned for a moment, and then she remembered that day on the shore, when Erik had kissed her breasts. She remembered the intimacy, the pleasure, and she flushed crimson. Worry filled her, as another thought hit her.

"But what about your shoulder? There is blood on your shirt."

Erik cupped her soft cheek lovingly in his palm. "Don't worry, Angel. My shoulder is just fine. As for the blood, it's just a little spot, and it's dried, so there is no bleeding anymore."

That seemed to relax her a bit. Then she went on. "But - "

Erik stared at her patiently and she sighed in defeat, before she stated in a warning tone. "If anything happens to you, or if your wound reopens, I will never forgive you."

"We have a deal. Now, do you accept the wager or not?" Erik replied lightly.

Thinking about it for a moment, Christine decided to take the leap. She wanted to be with him, she wanted to feel his lips on her, to feel the things only his touch could make her feel. She wanted to touch him, to kiss all the scars on his chest. But at the same time she felt a little afraid, everything was so new to her. "All right, but first you must ask permission, if I don't allow you to kiss the body part that you want to kiss, then you can't kiss it."

"I will abide by your rules," Erik replied quickly, too quickly for her peace of mind.

With that, Erik told Christine to get on his back, and she hesitantly did, wrapping her arms around his neck, grabbing the front of his shirt, and wrapping her legs around his waist.

"So," Christine replied breathlessly. "You didn't tell me where it is we are going?"

"It's a place I used to go to when I was little, to get away from everything. You could call it my secret place. I discovered it one day, since I used to come here a lot." He took a deep breath before continuing, as he started to climb the rough terrain: "All the town's people were afraid to come and climb this terrain, because they thought that wolves lived behind it, and it was said that ghosts haunted it by night. But I didn't care. I climbed it once, and I discovered the most beautiful place. So it became my sanctuary." He paused, lost in his thoughts, then said. "I wonder if it's still the same, from the time I left it." He chuckled softly as he added nonchalantly, "I've never shown anyone this place before."

Christine felt tears in her eyes at the thought that he would take her to his secret place, a place that he hadn't shown anyone. It touched her heart in a way that she couldn't explain. She loved him so much, she ached with it.

"Are you crying?" Erik asked incredulously, stopping his climb for a moment, as he tried to peer at her over his shoulder

"No," Christine was quick to say, quickly blinking away her tears.

Erik didn't seem convinced, but he didn't push the subject.

"I love you, Erik," Christine whispered, causing him to chuckle as he continued the climb.

"I know, Angel."

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"Maman, please don't be angry! Nothing happened! It wasn't Ned's fault!" Meg started, panic stricken, the memory of her mother pointing a gun at Ned rushing to her mind.

"Shhh," Ned said tenderly as he held Meg in his arms, calming her. "Your mother isn't angry. She's very concerned for you." Meg buried her face in Ned's shoulder and whispered, "Please don't leave me."

"I won't," Ned whispered back. He then looked up at Madame's grief stricken face. A tentative truce had settled between them, after Meg had passed out. She had seen Ned's reaction and that had convinced Madame that he truly cared about Meg. And seeing him now with her daughter convinced her that he loved her.

"Madame, I thought I would wait for a better moment - "as Meg whimpered in his arms - "but there is not a better moment than now." He continued without hesitation. "I love your daughter. I don't know what she sees in me, but I love her even though she deserves much better than me. I want to make her happy. I want to protect her. I want to be there for her, forever."

Meg pushed away from his arms, looking at him with surprise, she whispered shakily, "What are you doing?"

Ned ignored Meg's question as he continued, looking at Madame. "I would like to ask for your daughter's hand in marriage."


	27. Chapter 27

Soooo… here is the new chapter, it took me a while to finish, as you can see it is longer than my usual chapters. I want to thank my wonderful beta for doing a wonderful job as well. The first part of this chapter is rated M, or perhaps a mild M.

I also want to send a special shout out to all those of you who have added this phic to your favorites list or alerts list. And a hug to all those of you who have added me to your favorite authors list or alerts list.

And to those awesome people who leave me a review, and put a smile on my face, you get a batch of specially made phantomy cookies (I love hearing from you my lovely readers!) Constructive critisism (which I realized I hadn't mentioned before) is also always welcome.

Long Live Phantom!

* * *

**Chapter 27: (The Village) Part Four**

_Dear Angel of Music,_

_Today Mary Catherine and I sneaked into the chapel and attended a wedding ceremony! Oh, I know that we probably shouldn't have, since we weren't invited. I didn't even know the two people who were getting married. _

_But, oh, Angel, it was so beautiful - she was wearing a beautiful white silk dress, and her veil trailed behind her like gold dust. And he was standing there, so tall and handsome, in a fancy black suit. And when they repeated their vows after the priest, and held hands, and then kissed while everyone clapped… it was so romantic!_

_Angel, do you think that I will ever have a wedding like that? Mary Catherine was sighing, as she whispered to me that she would one day find her Prince Charming and have a beautiful wedding. Oh, Angel, I don't know if it will ever happen for me…but I do wish that love will find me one day…I really, really do…_

_Please come to me, Angel…_

_Lovingly, Christine Daae_

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This place held a multitude of memories for him, the only peaceful childhood memories he had were here. He was somewhat happy that this, his secret sanctuary, had not been affected or tainted by time. He stood in the midst of that beautiful, tranquil piece of earth and inhaled deeply. It was still as beautiful as he remembered, with the exception that now an Angel more beautiful than anything and any heaven, was standing in its heart with his heart in her unknowing hands, staring in awe. He couldn't take his eyes from her.

Christine was sure that if God had forgotten a piece of Eden on earth, then this would have been it. The trees swayed in the breeze, the grass was green; white and pink flowers were scattered everywhere like a delicate portrait that had been woven together in an ancient and mysterious tapestry. A stream glided through this little piece of heaven, with its pure diamond waters. Breathless, Christine took in her surroundings, her hands outstretched as she lifted her eyes to the heavens and just allowed herself to feel… the warm sun on her face, the breeze caressing her being, as the universe played its silent subtle symphony.

For a moment she thought that this place looked very familiar, but just as the thought came, she brushed it off and turned around to look at Erik who had been watching her most intently and most adoringly.

"Oh, Erik," she whispered in awe. "It's so beautiful."

Erik could think of something much more beautiful.

"Indeed, the most beautiful thing I have ever seen," he replied huskily, not removing his gaze from her face for one instant. Christine blushed as she realized that he was talking about her and not the beauty around them. She looked down at the ground for a moment before looking back up at Erik, a small smile on her lips.

"Well," Christine started, changing the subject, "I can see how you would have loved this place when you were young. But I don't understand how your mother ever allowed you to come here alone." Pointing in the direction they had just come from, she continued with obvious disapproval, "That terrain is truly treacherous and dangerous!"

Erik chuckled. Did she really think that there was anything that was too dangerous for him? Indeed she did, because she didn't know that everyone had been afraid of him ever since he had been born, that his poor mother was never in her right mind ever since he could remember. And that he was practically on his own ever since he could walk and talk.

"Nothing was ever too dangerous for me, Christine." When Christine would have started to protest, to tell him that of course she knew that he was young and impulsive and he didn't realize how dangerous it was, Erik gently placed a finger on her lush lips to stop her words, as he continued in that beautiful voice of his, "My mother didn't know where I came when I left the house to play in the woods." As he finished, he began gently tracing her lower lip with his finger.

The wind blew gently in the trees, as the leaves rustled and the sound of the gentle flowing waters echoed in symphony with the universe around them. Christine's breathing quickened, along with her heartbeat, as they stood staring at each other, the conversation forgotten. She reveled in the feel of Erik's gentle touch. He drew her closer to him, his other arm wrapped around her waist. When she looked up at him, her toes curled as she felt his body gently press against hers.

"And now, I get to kiss you. I won the bet, remember?" Erik said softly, his voice as beautiful as wind chimes, and Christine couldn't help but shudder in ecstasy just hearing it.

"T-the bet?" Christine whispered breathlessly, confused, her thoughts were jumbled as her heart threatened to beat right out of her chest.

His face was getting closer to hers.

"Yes, the bet." He replied huskily

Now she remembered they had made a bet about a kiss. She didn't have time to think about it, as her body of its own accord moved. She stood on the tips of her toes and brought her face closer to his, meeting his lips half way through their descent to hers. She didn't know exactly what was happening to her, she just knew that she needed, wanted him to touch her, to hold her close. The kiss deepened and Erik began tasting her, she moaned deep in her throat. It took her a moment to realize that she was the one making those little noises. She wanted to stop herself but she couldn't think as she was swept away by his kisses. If his arm wasn't wrapped around her waist, she was sure that she would have crumpled to the ground, for her legs wouldn't have been able to carry her.

Acting purely on instinct, Christine began imitating Erik's movements with her tongue, tasting him in return. She heard a low groan escaping from his throat and it thrilled her.

Erik realized that there was no going back now, he wanted her too badly, and he loved her too much. He had to have her. The feel of her soft body pressed to his, the little noises she made as he continued to kiss her and to touch her back, hips, arms, and hair, were driving him crazy for her. When she began imitating his movements with her tongue as she buried her hands in his hair, he felt himself beginning to lose control. But years of honing that same self-control and his love for her stopped him from moving too quickly. He was going to make this moment perfect for her even if it killed him.

With that thought in mind, he pulled away from Christine, keeping his arm around her. She whimpered in protest, dazed, her eyes dark with passion, at the loss of his warmth and his touch, but before she could get herself together, she realized that Erik was helping her to sit down, as he had spread his cloak on the ground. She sat down, grateful that she didn't have to stay standing, not sure that her legs would hold her. Things were becoming clearer in her mind, but then Erik started touching her with those hands of his, after he sat next to her. One of his hands came to rest in the valley between her breasts, over her clothes, and Christine trembled. She turned her gaze on him and noticed that his golden eyes had darkened, as he ran his other hand up and down her back.

His masked face was scant inches away from hers as he whispered, "I would like to make love to you." He brought his lips to her throat and began kissing her gently as he continued between kisses. "May I?"

"M-may you what?" she asked, her voice shaky and husky.

He withdrew a little, his hands still working their magic on her. "May I make love to you?"

"I-I don't know w-what making love exactly entails. You see, I've never -" she blushed trying to get the words out as she tried to keep her wits about her. "I've never…" she repeated weakly. He shouldn't be running his hands over her like that, if he wanted her to be coherent! she thought, annoyed. She tried to move away from him, but he caught her around the waist and kept her in place. His warm breath blew across her face and she whimpered. How she wanted to kiss him! But there was a gnawing fear in her, if he wanted to go farther then kissing, then how much farther was there?

"I'll show you what making love exactly entails," Erik replied tenderly, his eyes clouded with gentleness and love. He loved her so much, he ached. "I'm sure you have a general idea." Christine blushed and he continued, his hand moving between her breasts. "Let me show you how much I love you. Let me love you." His voice and his touch intoxicated her, taking her breath away.

"B-but you will stop when I tell you to stop?" Christine whispered, still a little afraid.

"I swear." Even if it killed him, he would stop whenever she told him to stop.

"Then," Christine replied huskily, breathlessly, grabbing the lapels of his shirt, bringing him closer to her, lifting her face to meet his lips, "make love to me. I want you to touch me. I love you. Forever." Her breath washed across his lips.

**(M rated part starts here)**

With that, their lips met in a kiss that was gentle and tender, intense and brilliant, encompassing and enthralling, everlasting as the heavens above. Erik began to undo the laces of her dress. His lips moved from her mouth to her neck, as he gently traced the area where he felt her pulse with his tongue, causing Christine's breath to hitch as she trembled in his arms. He slid the sleeves of her dress slowly down her arms and slowly kissed every inch of her arm that he uncovered, from her shoulders to the sensitive inner elbow to her wrists and finally he slipped the sleeves of her dress completely off her arms. He took her hands gently in his own and began to softly kiss her knuckles, and the tips of her fingers. He turned her hands over and began to place kisses in the palms of her hands – Christine never knew that the hands cold feel so exciting. Christine sat dazed at the emotions she was feeling, and the sensuousness of his lips and hands on her body was rendering her incoherent. She was drunk with love and desire for him.

She watched silently, now in nothing but her chemise, her dress gathered around her waist, as Erik continued kissing each hand thoroughly. A small cry erupted from her lips as he gently suckled her index finger. Who knew that the feel of his warm moist mouth on her finger could elicit such exquisite feelings, she thought in a haze.

Erik freed her hand and slid an arm beneath her back, gently lifting her, as he pulled the dress from her legs and off her completely, throwing it a few feet away from them on the grass. She was now in her undergarments.

Wanting to see him in turn, she moved her hands, trying to get to the buttons of his shirt. Erik watched her, his eyes darkening even more as her small gentle hands began unbuttoning his shirt. He shuddered with pleasure when she shakily pushed his shirt open and softly ran her hands across his chest and slowly descended down to his stomach. He noticed that as she touched and explored, she was tracing each one of his scars with the utmost gentleness and love.

"How did you get these?" she asked, her voice raspy and husky.

"It does not matter now," he replied quietly, as he leaned over her and began tracing her jaw line with his mouth.

"But - " Erik's lips cut off her protest, as he began kissing her senseless. The last thing he wanted was to destroy the mood he was creating by talking about his wretched past. Half of these scars he had gotten when he had been imprisoned for a year in that scientist's laboratory. He didn't want to talk or think about it now, or ever subject her to that tale.

He groaned as he felt Christine's hands slide beneath his shirt and start to move up and down his back, moving over his muscles and scars. He had never felt this strongly about anyone or anything, feelings like a tidal wave sweeping him in its wake.

Christine shuddered with pleasure as his mouth and tongue continued to move over her neck, jaw and mouth. And as she ran her hands over his warm back, she could feel his skin, his muscles and his scars. She ached for him and she trembled with pleasure all at the same time. He had started nibbling on her ear, and then he moved to her mouth when he suddenly stopped and pulled his mouth away from hers. A small cry of protest erupted involuntarily from Christine, as her dark blue eyes watched him in a haze.

He pulled his mouth away from hers, quickly undid her chemise and began raising it. Christine's breathing was labored. Erik bent down and lifted her to a sitting position. He brought his lips to her ears and whispered with that magical voice of his, "Raise your arms, love."

She did as she was told. Erik gently lifted the chemise from her, rendering her completely naked from the waist up. As the breeze blew, Christine whimpered, suddenly very self conscious. Her arms of their own accord moved quickly to cover her breasts but Erik was faster. He gently stopped her arms ascent and looking deeply into her eyes, said, "You are the most beautiful, lovely woman I have ever seen. Let me love you."

Christine whimpered as the tips of her breasts hardened due to the breeze and Erik's gaze which sent thrills down her spine. He bent his head and he pushed her back down to lay beneath him on the cloak. He brought his lips to the tip of one breast and gently licked it. Christine couldn't help it anymore, first she couldn't understand what he wanted to do, and then when she felt his warm moist tongue on that really sensitive part of her, the warmth in contrast with the cool breeze, she almost jumped off the ground at the intense pleasure that rushed through her. She sobbed as Erik licked her again.

"Erik!" she cried out and in that moment his mouth closed on her, on that very sensitive tip, and Christine's hands dug into Erik's back as she moaned and cried out his name again, her body arching toward his of its own accord.

When he finished his ministrations to one breast, he moved to the other, and then he continued to kiss her down her stomach. Pulling away, he removed his shirt completely, and leaned back over a whimpering, breathless Christine. He ran his hand – skin touching skin- from between her breasts down her stomach and further …. Christine gasped and her eyes flew open as she felt his hand slide beneath her bloomers - the only garment left on her body. Her legs clamped closed.

She tried to move away… alarmed. She hadn't thought that "making love" would be this much.

"Shhh," Erik whispered in her ear. "Trust me. Let me please you." And with that he began kissing her again, causing her to start moving against him. Her legs of their own accord weakened, so that Erik could easily slip his hand between them. And he had to force himself to stay in control. Feeling her softness, her core, her beauty as he gently cupped her there was almost his undoing. Christine cried out, overwhelmed and a little afraid.

Erik continued to kiss her and to whisper in her ear soothing loving words. Just as he slid one finger inside of her and then another, she cried out and shuddered over and over, as he felt her muscles clamping around his hand. He had brought her to her first climax.

He knew he couldn't hold on much longer. He quickly removed his hand and slid her bloomers off. He took a moment to admire her glorious form, causing her to blush all over.

"You are so beautiful," he reminded her again, hoping to dispel any insecurity she might feel.

As he began to undo the buttons of his pants, Christine sat up and with trembling hands pushed his hands away and did it herself. He stood up and pushed his pants down his legs, feeling in turn self conscious. She was an angel, so beautiful and soft. And he was nothing but a monster, covered in scars. He knew that she was looking and for a moment he wanted to hide. But what was done, was done. Now she could see all his scars very clearly -scars that ran from his chest, arms and stomach down to his legs and hips. If she didn't want him now, he would understand.

After her initial gasp at seeing him naked - for she had never seen a naked man before -

he lifted his gaze ready to face her look of disgust but instead saw tears glistening in her eyes. It was as if someone had knocked the wind out of him and a wave of self loathing washed over him. He had frightened her. He quickly knelt down beside her and took her in his arms as he whispered brokenly, "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have done that. You shouldn't have to see my hideous body."

"Oh, Erik. It's not that. I love you just as you are." In fact his body was like a work of art, lean and sculpted, all muscle and silent strength. If it weren't for the scars, he would have had a body like a painting. "I just… who did this to you?" she whispered as she ran one hand up and down his chest.

"As I said before, it does not matter," he whispered. Extreme relief washed through him, and he was ever so grateful to the heavens that Christine was not afraid or repulsed by him. He could hardly believe it… tears came to his own eyes. But he blinked them away, and then had to stop from snorting at himself in disgust. When had he become so soft?

Looking down at Christine, her beautiful eyes shining with love, desire and pain for him, made him almost forget his own name.

"But it does matter," Christine whispered. Oh how she loved him, and to see him covered in scars made her heart break a little. She felt the pain in her heart, as if she was the one who was scarred.

"No, it doesn't," he replied. "But if it will please you, we will talk about it later." He simply couldn't refuse her a thing.

He gently laid her back down and she whimpered as she felt his body against hers, skin on skin. She had not been expecting the tingles and the pleasure that would come with it. Erik was holding his weight on his forearms as he began to kiss her senseless again, and went back to doing his previous ministrations on her body, making her mindless with pleasure and desire. And only when he could feel how wet and ready she was, did he allow himself to gently and ever so slowly slide inside of her.

He stopped every inch he moved inside of her, afraid that he had hurt her. Her body stretched to accommodate him. All the while he didn't give her a chance to think as his mouth continued its assault on her. And when he was fully in her, he stopped kissing her and groaned, almost losing control again. She felt so warm and tight. She whimpered beneath him and he went very still.

"Did I hurt you?" he rasped, his voice strained and husky.

"N-no, not really." she replied. "It just feels strange."

"Wrap your legs around me, Angel," he whispered and she obliged. She had to admit she only felt a slight discomfort and a small burning sensation but no more. As she wrapped her legs around his waist, it caused her to involuntarily move around him and she gasped at the jolt of pure pleasure she felt, it was so exquisite and strong.

"Hold still," Erik rasped through gritted teeth, fighting to stay in control. And then he began to gently, slowly move in her.

And just like that, they were moving against each other, in an ever increasing rhythm as old as time, one heartbeat, one soul, one body. When her second orgasm rocked her, Christine cried out in pure pleasure, as Erik's name fell from her trembling lips. He felt her muscles contracting around him, and he gave up his control at last as his climax washed over him as well, in waves of unadulterated pleasure. She was his…

And so it was, that two souls met… two bodies united… and two hearts embraced…to become one…

**(M rated ends here)**

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Sorelli's eyes were red and puffy; she had her handkerchief in her hands as she burst into the study. Raoul was seated by the fireplace, waiting for news from the doctor. He held a glass of brandy in one hand. He looked tiredly up at her from his seat; he was exhausted from all the day's events. He had managed to retrieve his brother from perfectly horrible people, now he could only hope and pray that his brother would recover and that he would have information about Christine…Christine…he was worried sick about her. But he knew that he had to be strong until his brother improved enough to talk and communicate.

"Where is he?" Sorelli demanded, her voice raspy and strained, indicating that she had been crying. Raoul sighed again. He knew that he shouldn't have sent for her so soon but he had known that his brother would want to see her as soon as he awoke.

"The doctor is seeing him. He will be done any moment now and then you can see him."

"Oh, God!" Sorelli wailed as she slumped in a chair across from him. "What happened to him?" she cried as she buried her face in her handkerchief and began to sob.

Raoul rose silently and filled another glass of brandy. He walked over to her and handed her the glass. She took it gratefully from him and took a big gulp, grimacing at how badly it burned her mouth and throat.

"Thank you," she stated when she could speak again, still dabbing at her tears. What made her feel even worse was that during those weeks when he had not returned any of her letters, she had been furious with him, instantly assuming that he was cheating on her. And that just made her feel worse.

"It will all be all right," Raoul stated in reassurance as he gently patted her hand in comfort. Looking at her confused, questioning, tearful eyes, he proceeded to tell her what had happened.

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Meg had excused herself after talking to the Reverend, and now Madame and Ned were left inside his office, as she sat in the waiting room.

Her hands trembled slightly. Everything was happening too quickly again. But after her mother and Ned had spoken, they had both agreed that the sooner they married the better. Madame had not wanted to wait another minute, not with Meg's "delicate condition", as she had worded it. Meg had been too dazed and numb with emotions to object. It wasn't that she didn't want to marry Ned, because she did with every fiber of her being. It was the fact that she knew what becoming a wife entailed, she would have to share the same intimacies with Ned that those awful men had forced on her. She shuddered at the thought. But she couldn't, after everything that he had done for her and was still doing, deny him the pleasures of the flesh. She knew that men really enjoyed it. How she would endure it, she didn't know.

But if Ned was willing to sacrifice a good future with a normal wife, and to raise a child that wasn't even his, then the least Meg could do, would be to allow him to have this physical intimacy with her. He truly loved her, and he had proved it over and over. She knew that Ned would never force her, and that if she asked, he would give her all the time in the world to get over her fears and phobias. But she was determined that she would try to prove her love to him as well.

For now, Meg was ready to put those worries aside. She had too many other things on her mind. She was still unsure of her feelings about her pregnancy, but after her initial outburst, she had reached the conclusion that this child was innocent too. And that it deserved a chance at life. With Ned by her side, the situation didn't seem so awful; as long as he stayed with her, she was sure she could face anything.

Somewhere in the recesses of her being, another part of her protested a little. Here she was in a normal dress, about to stand before a priest, without any guests, or any entrance music. She had always dreamed of wearing a white dress and walking down the aisle. Now she would never get her dream wedding. She felt tears prick her eyes and tried to blink them away. Just then, the door of the Reverend's office opened and Ned stepped out. He held a bouquet of beautiful white daisies in one of his hands. He looked at her and smiled.

In that moment, Meg realized that a beautiful, big wedding didn't mean a lot to her without this man. As long as she was marrying him, then she didn't mind if she was wearing a sack as she walked down the church aisle. She tried to smile back at him, but she had a hunch that she hadn't fully succeeded, for his gaze turned concerned and tender.

He walked over to her and sat in the chair beside her. He silently gave her the bouquet of flowers, which she took without a word. She brought the beautiful flowers to her nose and inhaled as he moved his hand toward hers and took her small free hand in his. He gently intertwined their fingers and looked at Meg, who was looking at their joined hands. She bit her lower lip for a moment, before looking up at Ned.

"Where did you get these?" she asked quietly, waving the bouquet slightly in her hand.

He winked at her and grinned. "I stole them from the Reverend's office."

Meg gasped, horrified. But before she could say another word, Ned continued quickly, "I was just joking! The Reverend actually gave them to me. He is a firm believer that no bride should walk down the aisle without a bouquet of flowers in her hands. And I happen to agree."

Meg rolled her eyes and laughed, hitting him playfully with the bouquet, before resting it in her lap. It was beautiful and she didn't want to ruin it. Silence fell between them, thick and tense again. Meg continued to stare at the bouquet in her lap, before she felt Ned's hand on her chin, as he gently lifted her face toward his, and looked at her in all seriousness now.

"I know that it is happening too quickly," Ned said gently. "And I know that you deserve a beautiful, memorable wedding. And we will have one as soon as all this - " he waved with his free hand, referring to the men that were after them and all the issues with Lucienne, "is over. You will have the wedding that you deserve."

He took a deep breath and ran his free hand through his hair. He hadn't allowed himself to second guess his actions, but the truth was that everything was happening too quickly for him also. He had just admitted his love to her a few hours ago, and now here he was in the church, about to be married. If the situation were not so severe, he might have laughed. She had been running away from him in the morning and now here she was, so beautiful and pure, about to marry him in the afternoon. To say that the day was eventful was an understatement. But Ned had no regrets, and he wouldn't allow himself to get nervous. He was about to get the most beautiful woman in the world, inside and out, by his side for the rest of his life. He knew that he and Meg still had a lot of issues to work out, but as long as she was with him, he would be happy.

"Oh, Ned," Meg replied softly, her voice breaking as tears trailed down her cheeks. She furiously wiped at them with her free hand, angry at herself for not being able to control her emotions at all. She felt like a rain cloud, never knowing when the waterfalls would begin or end. She smiled through her tears, her love shining in her eyes. "I don't need a big wedding. As long as you're with me, that's all I need."

Ned gently brought his free hand to her lips and began to trace them. His touch was feather soft and Meg whimpered. Not taking his eyes off hers, his fingers gently brushing her cheek, wiping away the remnant of tears, he replied gently, "Silly woman, I want to give you a big, beautiful wedding. And I want to see you in a beautiful white dress. We are going to have a second wedding. That is non-negotiable."

Meg laughed again through her tears as she placed her hand over his, and leaned her cheek more firmly into his palm. "You do realize you are becoming too bossy," she stated playfully.

"Oh, no, my lady, I beg to differ," he replied with a grin. "I live to please you."

Meg laughed - she couldn't help it. And in the next instant, his lips, soft and gentle, were crushing hers.

But the sound of someone clearing her voice caused them both to reluctantly move away from each other. Looking up, Meg turned crimson as she saw her mother and the Reverend looking at them meaningfully. The Reverend had a smile on his face.

"Shall we proceed?" the Reverend said.

"Of course," Madame replied, before Ned or Meg had a chance to reply, causing Ned to chuckle and Meg to blush further. Hand in hand they rose and walked toward the altar, toward a new life…

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Christine lay in his arms, content and radiant. Her head rested on his shoulder. She wore nothing but his shirt that came down to her knees. Erik lay shirtless, with one arm beneath his head and the other arm wrapped around Christine. It had been quite an experience. He could not believe that she was his now in every way and form. She was his completely. He felt humbled that she had allowed him to worship her body. Christine shivered in his arms and he wrapped his arm around her more tightly, wondering if she was cold.

"Are you cold?" he asked concerned, looking down at the top of her golden head.

Christine shifted slightly and looked up at him, her fingers running up and down his chest. "No, not really."

Then she shifted and lifted herself from Erik's arms, so that she was looking straight at his masked face. Christine bit her lip for a moment and Erik stared at her, waiting to see what she wanted to say, before she bent her head and nuzzled his lips gently with hers.

"Erik?" she whispered as she continued to kiss his jaw and then down to his neck

"Hmm?" he whispered; he had closed his eyes and just allowed himself to enjoy her ministrations for a moment.

"Why won't you remove your mask?" she asked, pulling away from him and going back to looking straight into his golden eyes. His free hand moved involuntarily to touch the black cloth mask protectively, as he replied gruffly, "Your first time has to be perfect, Christine. I do not want you to have to endure the sight of my hideous face." There was a pause before he said with finality, "Ever."

"Oh, Erik," Christine cupped his masked cheek, her eyes filling with tears. "But it was! My first time with you was perfect. It was so wonderful! And it wouldn't have made a difference if you had your mask on or not, not to me!"

"No," Erik replied softly, nonchalantly, as he played with a strand of her golden hair. "It's enough that you saw all the scars on my body." She opened her mouth to protest, but instead he pulled her closer to him and kissed her full on the lips, then pulled slightly away as he continued against her lips, "Please don't fight me on this. We can discuss it another time. But not now."

Christine realized that if she were to push the subject any further now, it would ruin the mood and the beauty and peace she was feeling now. She didn't want to argue with Erik, not now. But she would definitely have a long discussion with him later, she promised herself.

"Erik?" she asked again, running her fingers through his black hair. He looked at her waiting for her to continue. He noticed that she was turning an alarming shade of pink.

"What is it?" he asked gently, tenderly, trying to make her as comfortable as possible Instantly he realized that what she wanted to say was, for some reason, embarrassing her.

"I was wondering," she started shakily, shyly. "Could we, I mean - "

"Oh," she groaned in frustration, and rolled away from him, covering her eyes with her hand, so that she was now laying beside him on his cloak.

Erik pushed himself up on his elbow and leaned over her, as he ran his free hand up and down her side. "What is it?" he asked really curious now.

"I was just wondering…" Christine removed her hand from her eyes, so that she was looking up at him as he bent over her. "Oh, just forget it," she huffed.

"Tell me," he said in a no-nonsense tone. Looking in his eyes, Christine blushed even more, knowing that she had done it now; he wouldn't let it go until she told him. She silently berated herself for opening her big mouth and starting something this embarrassing.

"Well," she began, her voice shaking. "Could we…you know…do it - " she bit her lip and blushed even more as she finished very softly, "again?"

Erik chuckled and she huffed and tried to push him away from her in annoyance.

"It's not funny!" she stated, embarrassed, and tried again to push him away but he leaned over her and began kissing her frown away.

"I know it's not," Erik replied tenderly, as he pulled away from her to look her straight in the eye. "But I don't think that that's a good idea for you. You probably feel tender…there" he looked at her meaningfully, not wanting to speak too openly so as not to offend her sensibilities. She wasn't so shy when passion overtook her, Erik recalled silently. And little by little, he was determined to make her overcome her shyness. Christine blushed furiously as he continued gently, "You're not ready for a second time yet, love."

"Oh, God," Christine squeaked in embarrassment. She could not believe that she was having this conversation with him.

"But," Erik continued as he began to unbutton his shirt, the shirt which covered her glorious body from him, "since I can not deny you anything…" He left the rest of his sentence unspoken as he slid his hand under the shirt to gently cup one of her breasts. Christine was trying to slap his hands away as he gently ran his thumb over the tip of her soft breast, and she whimpered in pleasure and renewed passion. He brought his lips back to hers, and started to kiss her senseless, making her forget her name.

He would love her and pleasure her with his mouth and hands, but not more. She was not ready for them to go all the way again, not so soon after their first time. Erik was determined to make this experience beautiful and memorable for her. He felt humbled that she had allowed him to touch her glorious body, that she had given him herself and bound herself to him in every meaning of the word.

Indeed, it was love…and one of the most glorious and insane days of their lives…

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Joseph reached the outskirts of Rouen and stopped for a moment, almost toppling over. He leaned against a tree, trying to gather some of his remaining strength. He felt so worn out, he knew he wouldn't last much longer. He needed rest, the bruises he had received thanks to that freak and his henchmen needed tending. He also needed food and water. But where to get that kind of help? He thought for a moment, his tired mind needing time to conjure coherent thought, then it flashed in his mind…he needed to find a church, they would at least offer him food and water and then point him toward the nearest hospice or hotel.

And as he resumed walking and entered the streets of Rouen, he saw it…the church…

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"Do you Ned Sinclair take this woman Marguerite Giry to be your lawfully wedded wife? In sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer? To love, honor and cherish her for as long as you both shall live?" the Reverend's voice rang out as he performed the wedding ceremony, in the presence of Madame Giry as a witness, and two monks and two nuns.

Ned squeezed Meg's hand reassuringly as he smiled lovingly down at her and said firmly, "I do."

The Reverend turned to Meg and repeated the words of the wedding vow.

Meg took a deep breath, trying to calm her thudding heartbeats and her nervousness. She looked at Ned's beautiful jade eyes and was lost for a moment. Without allowing herself to think about it any longer, she brushed away her worries and fears, knowing that she loved Ned and that that was all she needed. She replied without hesitation, "I do."

Drawing the sign of the cross with his free hand before them, he announced. "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife."

Ned grinned and Meg smiled nervously as the Reverend continued with a smile of his own, "You may now kiss the bride."

As Ned bent down to kiss her the sound of clapping stopped everyone in their tracks, as all eyes turned toward the entrance of the church. When Ned's eyes fell on the man standing in the door way, he straightened away from Meg, his posture turned defensive and deadly in an instant, and he quickly drew Meg behind his back.

"Now this is what I call Providence," Joseph Bouquet stated sarcastically.


	28. Chapter 28

**And here is the new chapter...and that's all I'm going to say... mwahahahaha. **

**I hope that it will be to your enjoyment my lovely readers**

**Enjoy! Long Live Phantom!**

* * *

**Chapter 28 (The Village) Part Five**

The year 1859

"Erik," Lucienne stated with a flourish. Erik smirked silently; the man was quite happy now that he had Erik working for him. If he only knew that Erik loathed him; not that Erik liked anyone but he had a particularly bad feeling about Lucienne.

The man had taken Erik on a tour of his house; he did like grandeur. Hiding his exasperation, Erik realized the man was an idiot when it came to fine things - half of his precious figurine and vase collection was not made of china or pure porcelain, but rather it was tainted. Of course, Lucienne did not know that, and he bragged about his precious collection. Erik pitied him for a moment; the man had been duped… not that Erik cared one bit.

"I want to introduce you to one of my most talented men," Lucienne's voice brought Erik back from his musings. Lucienne ushered the other man to come forward. The first thing Erik noticed about him was that he was young, and he had green eyes. "This is Ned Sinclair. He will be your right hand on the designing and construction assignment of the torture chamber."

"Wait a minute," the other man said, as Erik observed silently. "You never said anything about a torture chamber, Lucienne. I agreed to work for you, but this isn't a part of my job description."

"Ned," Lucienne said, as if he were talking to an idiot, "Ned, my man, I hired you because of your remarkable skill at breaking into any lock or safe. I also hired you because of your remarkable skill at tracking. I think that Erik might need your advice on how to make the locks to the torture chamber so that none can escape it."

Erik smirked again; the idiot thought that he did not know about locks. Well, what did it hurt? Less work for him. He was getting paid full price anyway, let this Ned do the designs on the locks. It wasn't as if this was his masterpiece or anything. Still, a part of him was irritated; he didn't like sharing his work with anyone.

"No," Ned said simply.

Well, what do you know? Erik thought, amused. Ned had a conscience and apparently was truly uneasy with assisting in any way in building a torture chamber.

"Listen to me, boy," Lucienne hissed. "Don't you dare defy me. You know what I can do to you, if you do. We have an agreement. You will do whatever I tell you."

Erik could see the rage and defiance in Ned's eyes. But there was also a dead calmness in there, which Erik admired. Smart man, even though he was a sentimental fool after all, this Ned at least knew to keep his emotions under tight control.

"You know, I must say," Erik interrupted lazily, "I usually work alone. But this time, I will make an exception." He looked at Ned with amusement. Oh, this would be fun. "I don't just want his advice. I want him to design the locks to the torture chamber, after I show him my creation."

Ned's eyes narrowed at Erik; he seemed to want to say something but then he stopped himself. There seemed to be an unspoken hostility in the air until Ned finally broke the silence and uttered the two words that would yet again change his life.

"Very well."

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As the month passed by, a sort of truce developed between Erik and Ned, and a tentative friendship began to form. Ned worked on the designs of the locks and Erik polished his torture chamber design and oversaw the building process.

One day when Ned was taking a break, Erik saw him talking to a young girl who looked to be no older than 14. He thought to go back to his designs, but something about the way Ned was talking, even though Erik could not hear most of it, caught his interest. What would it hurt, he thought, to observe Ned with this girl. The way Ned held her and murmured in her ear pulled at something in him. She was fashionably dressed in an expensive pink frock and she sported a pink ribbon in her hair. He seemed to be gently reprimanding her for coming to find him, when he had told her specifically not to seek him out when he was working. Her cheek was resting on his chest

Out of sheer boredom and a niggling sense in the back of his mind, for he had never seen any kind of familial affection before, Erik approached them.

"So," he said in that velvet voice of his, "are you going to introduce me or not?"

Ned stepped back from the girl. As soon as the girl's sight fell on Erik's masked visage, she gasped and then just stared. The first thing Erik noticed about her was that she had the same emerald eyes. He knew before Ned, who was glaring at him now, said anything that she was a close relation.

"Erik," Ned said calmly, "this is my younger sister, Jammes."

"Jammes, this is Erik."

"Hello, monsieur," she whispered as she clumsily curtsied and then drew away from her brother and closer to Erik. "You have a most intriguing eye color," she continued, fascinated.

Erik chuckled as he looked at Ned and said, "Charming little sister."

"Jammes," Ned said firmly drawing her back to him, "go back to your room, or find Alicia." Alicia was the maid's daughter and Jammes's friend.

She bit her lip, looking sad as she said, "But I rarely see you. You're always working with this or that, and I don't even know what you're doing."

"I'll finish early today. I promise you, and then I'll join you for dinner. Now go," he touched the tip of her nose with his finger and she giggled. "Please?"

"Since you're being so nice, I'll go. But I will hold you to your promise."

Ned smiled as he watched her run back into the grand house, her wavy brown hair bouncing as she went.

"So what's the story, Sinclair?... Orphaned?... Abandoned by your parents and now you must provide for your sister?" There was pause, before Erik continued lazily, "What's your sad story?"

Ned smiled, but there was a hint of sadness in his voice, "Why do I get the feeling that you are immensely enjoying yourself?"

Erik smirked, "That's because I am," he said, walking back to his desk and sitting down again in front of his torture chamber design. He continued with mock enthusiasm, "Indeed I am. So please tell me, I am all attention."

Ned crossed his arms against his chest and stated calmly, "Very well, I'll tell you my 'sad story', if - " there was a pause as he seemed to consider " - you tell me yours."

For a moment, Ned thought he saw pain flash through Erik's eyes, but then Erik just let out a soft, chilling laugh. "I don't have a sad story. This is what I am. But please don't let that stop you from telling me your tale." He smirked. "As I said, I'm all attention."

"Very well," Ned sat at his desk, the site of his designs - the work in progress - sent a chill down his spine, making him realize how he had gotten to this point. What more would life throw at him?

"Short version, I was orphaned when I was 12. My parents died in a carriage accident. My father was a poor English vicar, my mother the daughter of a French aristocrat. They fell in love, eloped, married, and they had a happy, if short, marriage. Her parents disowned her when she ran away with my father," he said as nonchalantly as possible.

"Accidents happen," Erik said dismissively as he poured himself a glass of wine.

"So I was left on the streets, with a seven year old sister to take care of. Some boys had taught me how to pick pockets, so I started doing that, and soon I improved my act. I started checking out fancy houses and then breaking into them at night. I never broke a window - I always used the door. I realized that I had a natural talent for it….the locks - " he said momentarily pointing to the drawing in front of him, a silent explanation. Then continued: "One day, two years later, I came to rob this house, and well, Lucienne caught me. I admit I should have checked the house more properly before deciding on robbing it, I would have seen how heavily guarded it is. But I was getting cocky." He chuckled without humor at the memory. "At first he wanted to send me to prison, but one of his men, Joseph Bouquet, who had apparently observed me enter the house, told Lucienne that I had a lot of potential."

"Then Lucienne became the town's hero, as he so generously adopted the two orphaned children. He threatened me that if I said a word he would kill my sister, or simply throw her out on the streets and kill me, so that she would be left unprotected and destitute. I couldn't let that happen. His men trained me, and I put everything I had into learning, trying to impress Lucienne so that he would treat my sister well." There was a thoughtful pause before he continued, as his pencil drew a line. He had started working on his designs again as he talked, "I can't get her out of his grasp, yet. So I do what I must to protect her."

"So noble," Erik muttered in an utterly disinterested tone, as he took a sip of his wine, and Ned chuckled.

"Noble? Hardly," he stated with an edge of bitterness. "One does what he must to survive."

"I'll drink to that," Erik stated calmly, but there was an edge to his voice.

Although he would never admit it, Ned's story had affected him, for he had never seen that type of love. He had never had a loving family. Or maybe he was becoming a sentimental fool himself; he almost laughed at the ridiculousness of the thought. No, he was not sentimental; he didn't even have a heart. And after all, how could one feel, without a heart?

Sipping the rest of his wine, Erik stated, "Let's get back to work, Sinclair. Enough sad stories for one day."

"Indeed," Ned sighed, as he bent over his designs and a wave of nostalgia hit him. He could only imagine what his father and mother would think, if they saw him now. They would be so disappointed…

But life went on…and it was only the strongest who survived…

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The year 1870

"The last time I saw you, you were pathetically tied to a chair," Ned said sarcastically as he tilted his head to the side and he heard Meg whimpering behind him. "What brings you here? I don't recall inviting you."

"This - " Joseph stated in mock sentiment, raising his hands up in a surrendering fashion "my friend, is the benefit of being constantly underestimated. Don't you remember the day I told you never to underestimate your enemy?" He clapped his hands together and shook his head in mock disappointment. "You should have been paying closer attention, my boy, because that is an important lesson." He pointed to himself, to get his point across clearly. "A very important lesson, don't you think?"

Ned was ready to lunge at him; he was seething inside. The fact that he could feel Meg trembling behind him made his blood boil even more. He loathed Joseph in that moment. Yes, he should just lunge at him, drag him outside the church door and beat him senseless, but not kill him because Erik wanted to do that himself. However, he could always tell Erik that things got out of control and he had to do it himself, but Ned brushed that morbid thought aside for the moment.

Madame's gently restraining touch on his arm brought him out of his thoughts. He barely saw her at the edge of his peripheral vision, but he heard her question very clearly. "Who is he, Ned?"

Before Ned could answer, Joseph jumped in, only too happy to oblige her. "Oh, you mean he never told you? Why, of course, he wouldn't, because then it would show him for the lying bastard he is."

"What does he mean?" Madame asked Ned, concern and curiosity evident in her features.

"What is going on here?" the Reverend had finally found his voice and demanded an explanation; it was, after all, his church.

"Should I tell them Ned - or will you?" Joseph said in a sickly sweet voice.

"Shut up!" Ned hissed. Meg let out a sob from behind him and Ned kicked himself for not moving faster to remove the bastard from the premises. As far as he knew, Joseph had sent the men who had raped Meg, under Lucienne's orders. He wasn't sure if Meg had met Joseph when she had been kidnapped. He hoped not, for he didn't need this to get any worse.

"What are you going to do?" Joseph taunted him. "Hit me in the house of God? Or kill me when I am unarmed and beaten up? That would show your new bride what kind of man you are, now, wouldn't it?"

"Enough!" the Reverend Thomas finally spoke with authority and firmness. "I don't care who you are, Monsieur, but you are frightening this young lady here." He pointed to Meg, whom Joseph couldn't see, because she was behind Ned's back.

"And I will not allow you to cause trouble in the house of God. If you want to pick a fight, take it outside." He looked at both Ned and Joseph.

"I don't want to pick a fight," Joseph denied vehemently, like a snake. "I just want to make sure that, that sweet innocent girl there knows who she is marrying. So since I see that I am not welcome here, I will make this short." He pointed at Ned and spoke to all. "This man tries to pretend that he is somehow better than the rest of us, and that he is the defender of the weak and righteous. But the hypocrite was, once upon a time, one of the same men who raped you, dearest Marguerite Giry!"

"What?!" Madame screamed, for she had no idea that her daughter had been through anything like that.

"Lord have mercy," Reverend Thomas whispered in shock, at the same time as Madame Giry.

Meg gasped and raised her hands to cover her mouth. Ned had gone very still.

"I will kill you," Ned stated calmly, emphasizing every word. Then he felt it, one of Meg's soft hands on his arm. As she walked out from behind his back, her eyes were as wide as saucers and she was deathly pale.

"I don't believe you," Meg told Joseph shakily, then she looked at Ned and whispered, "Ned?... Tell him it's not true."

Ned's hands turned to fists as Meg repeated her request very quietly, "Ned, tell him."

But there was only silence…deathly and grave…he was about to lose her…forever…

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Christine sighed in contentment, as Erik stood behind her tying the laces of her dress. Her hair was wet, as was his, since they had both taken a swim in that river. Christine blushed at the memory; she had never taken a swim before, naked, with a man.

"Erik?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"I know," he turned her around and kissed the tip of her nose. "And I love you."

"And we'll be together always?"

"Always. You're my wife."

She sighed again, as she sagged against Erik's chest. "Wife," she said softly. "I really like the sound of that."

"Let's get going, before the sun sets," Erik said gently as he pulled away from her.

Christine whimpered at the loss of his touch as a strong wave of sadness hit her, making her reel for a moment. Where had that come from? She thought, dazed, for a moment. She felt Erik's arms around her again in an instant, and after a few moments she was able to hear his voice again.

"Christine! Answer me, what's wrong?"

She sagged helplessly against him and waited for her world to straighten, before looking at him with lucid eyes and catching her breath.

"I - " she started with a sob, "I don't really know. I just have this strong feeling - " tears rolled down her cheeks and she felt like an idiot for worrying Erik, and crying over something that might not even be there, but she couldn't help it, the feeling was too strong. She wrapped her arms around his waist and drew herself as close to him as possible.

"What?" Erik asked gently, his voice filled with worry as he ran one of his hands through her hair and down her back. "What feeling? Do you regret what we did?" Quickly he started jumping to conclusions, and quickly he went on in his most soothing voice "Christine, I will marry you in front of a priest if that's what you want. We are married in front of God - we made vows, remember? We did nothing wrong."

Christine smiled through her tears. "Erik, it's not that. However, I wouldn't mind a church wedding. But it's not that," she said shakily. "I just have this strong feeling that once we go back, once we enter Rouen - " her voice broke on another sob as she buried her face in his chest, " - we will never see each other again."

Erik's stilled completely for a moment. Was Christine actually having a premonition, or was it just her subconscious fear?

How he loved her and he had no plans of parting from her. "Christine, love, listen to me."

She sniffed against his chest and he could feel her sobbing ease. "I promise you, even if we part, nothing will keep me away from you. Nothing"

Christine whimpered as more tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Hush, Christine," he said in his most soothing voice. "Hush." And yet somewhere in the back of his mind, he couldn't shake the feeling that Christine's words were not just the result of her subconscious fear. It was as if he could feel it in the wind… breathe it in the air around them… impending doom…

The wind blew through the trees, telling stories no one would ever hear, as the leaves rustled their replies…. calling to the last rays of light…

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Raoul entered the stables; he had been looking for Armand for the last half hour. Sorelli had gone up to see Phillipe, after the doctor had left and Raoul wanted to give them some time alone. When he had time to think clearly, he had realized that he knew Armand, that he had been the same driver who had brought Christine and Meg Giry to his house. And now he had been the one to find Phillipe. Coincidence? Raoul didn't think so.

Armand was stealthily and quickly saddling his horse.

"Going somewhere?" Raoul asked as he rested his back against the stall door, hence effectively blocking Armand's exit.

Armand buckled the last strap of the saddle on his horse, making sure it was perfectly and firmly placed and ready to ride. Then he turned to face Raoul and stated simply, "As a matter of fact, yes, I am. And if you were smart, you would get out of my way."

"Why?" Raoul said calmly. "I believe that you know exactly what happened to my brother. Perhaps you even know where Lucienne is. And - " he took a deep breath " - you sure as hell know where Christine Daee is!" He said the last firmly, "And you will tell me or I will tell the police everything I suspect about you."

Armand sighed in exasperation and began quickly getting straight to the heart of the issue.

"Your brother and I killed several men back in the woods, a few miles south of where you found us. I overheard the police chief telling half his regiment to go back and check the area out. He didn't really buy my story." There was a pause as Raoul's jaw had dropped. "We killed them in self defense, but none the less, I highly doubt that the authorities will see it that way," He waved his hand dismissively at the stable door. "So it is either I ride now, take a short cut and try to clean the area around the cottage as quickly as possible, or you will bring the entire police regiment on our heads."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Ned? Why don't you say something?" Meg whispered as tears streamed down her face.

"Meg, is it true?" Madame Giry, deathly pale, cut her off urgently as she walked to her daughter's side. "Did you…did they hurt you?"

"Yes!" Meg almost screamed her answer, as the sobbing started. For the first time she was talking about it, no matter in how vague a manner. "Yes…yes…yes," she continued hysterically as she sank to the floor, covering her face with her hands. Madame Giry instantly knelt down beside her daughter and took her in her arms. Before she could say any soothing word, Ned had flung himself at Joseph, hitting him square in the chest and both tumbled outside the church.

"You son of a bitch!" Ned roared, as he jumped up, grabbing Joseph by the lapels of his tattered shirt, lifting him off the ground, and slamming his fist into Joseph's jaw repeatedly as he slammed his body against the church's outer wall. For a moment he let go of all control and just allowed himself to revel in pummeling the wretch within an inch of his life. Although the thoughts of killing him crossed repeatedly in his mind, he still pushed them away, because he didn't want to do it with Meg possibly watching.

He could still hear her broken weeping inside, and it made his blood boil even more. Maybe he would…he would kill Joseph Bouquet in front of all. Joseph lay slumped, unconscious, as Ned led go of him. He didn't know how long ago Joseph had lost consciousness, nor did he care. He had needed to get that anger out of his system.

When he walked back inside the church, his knuckles a bit swollen, and knelt down to take Meg into his arms, she flinched away from him. She was still trying to get her crying under control.

"Y-you didn't d-deny it!" she hiccupped, the tears continued to fall. "You didn't! W-why?"

For a moment, it was as if she had slammed him in the guts. He looked as if he was in physical pain, as he watched Meg sobbing against her mother and struggling to face him. His heart wrenched, and he swallowed the lump in his throat. He looked at Madame Giry. "Madame. we have to get out of here quickly." A painful pause and then he added, with every bit of strength he had, the sentence in which he would give away his heart - "And then, if you don't want to see me again, I'll understand." He swallowed hard. "Just let me explain first, once we're safe."

"Oh, God," Meg wailed, for his words had just confirmed her deepest fears.

Madame's lips thinned; he could see that she was not just grief stricken but spitting mad. Then she nodded her agreement. After all, what choice was there?

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Erik and Christine were almost out of the forest now. Christine had been silent for the most part, and although Erik had tried to soothe her fears, she still couldn't shake the feeling that the end was near. She could make out the shape of the church now, and she knew that they were very close to the outskirts of Rouen.

She was deep in thought, she wasn't admiring her surroundings this time. The sound of approaching hooves brought her out of her musings and fear, to another type of fear. The horseman appeared to be riding straight for them. Christine stifled a scream and Erik pulled her out of the way and took a defensive posture.

"Erik!" the horseman shouted to Christine's surprise, and Erik relaxed his posture, realizing who it was, as the horse came to a stop a few feet away from them. When he dismounted, Christine relaxed.

Armand dismounted hurriedly and said, "We don't have much time. I took Phillipe back - he was really sick…needed medical attention. Unfortunately we were met with Raoul, his younger brother, going in the direction of the cottage with a whole regiment of soldiers. Apparently, there were reports of gunfire going on there. Anyway, I pretended that it was I who was helping Phillipe escape for the prize money."

Taking a deep breath, he continued, "Since there were a lot of bodies around the cottage - " Christine gasped at this piece of information and Armand continued quickly - "We tried to distract the officers and it worked for a while. I then overheard the police chief talking to his lieutenant, and telling him to take half the regiment and check out the area again. Apparently he didn't fully buy my story. So I rode off, took a short cut and cleaned as much as I could around the cottage, so that it would seem that I and Phillipe had only killed three or four men who were holding him. Otherwise it wouldn't have been believable that only the two of us had killed twenty something men. But I wasn't quick enough, they saw me as I was leaving after the cleanup, and they took pursuit. We need to move now!"

Erik grabbed Christine and pushed her toward the church.

"Go," he ordered. "Run to the church and stay there. If anybody asks you anything, you don't know me."

"What?" Christine asked, her heart falling to her knees and her stomach twisting in knots of fear. Her premonition was coming true.

"No!" she stated vehemently. "No, I won't part from you! I won't!"

Erik sighed, not wanting to argue and waste precious time. He simply grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder. She squeaked. "What are you doing?"

He began to quickly move. "If you're not going to go to the church on your own, I am taking you myself," he answered in a no-nonsense tone. Then he called to Armand over his shoulder to meet him at a location that Christine had never heard of before, but first he had to lead his pursuers away from Rouen and then lose them. Armand called out confidently, that he would see him at their designated meeting location in a few hours. Armand then wheeled his horse around and rode off in a different direction.

"Erik, don't do this!" Christine said through her teeth as she tried to break free from Erik's grip and get down.

He didn't reply as he continued walking. She realized as she looked from her upside down position that they were at the church's back door. Erik put her down and she was about to give him a piece of her mind, when the door opened and a frazzled, tired looking Reverend Thomas stood before them. His eyes widened at the sight of Erik, and he crossed himself. "Lord have mercy," he stated again, realizing that this day had made him state that phrase quite frequently. "I thought you were dead!"

"I know," Erik said dismissively. "We need shelter." Pointing to Christine, he amended, "She needs shelter for a few hours, and I will come back for her."

Reverend Thomas fought to regain his wits; he didn't know how much more his old heart could take in one day. When he found his voice again, he stated, "Come in, come in. You're not the only people here."

Erik looked around sharply, searching, listening.

That's when they heard it, the sound of weeping, and Erik could hear Ned's voice asking Madame Giry something. His lips thinned in irritation as he took Christine's hand and made his way to the chapel, followed by the Reverend.

Christine's heart caught at the sight of Meg so shattered, crumpled on the floor, her head lying on her mother's shoulder. Ned was kneeling before them, talking to Madame telling her that they had to leave now and that after he had seen them to safety, they wouldn't have to see him again.

"What is going on?" Erik asked, his voice impatient and authoritative.

Madame shot daggers at Erik; he was sure if looks could kill, he would be dead now. She stood, helping her daughter to stand as well.

"Funny you should ask," Madame snapped bravely. In those moments, she was too angry to be scared. "I put my daughter and myself through all of this, just to see to your wounds. But apparently you are fine and well and back to your usual ruthless self." Her eyes filled with tears as she continued, "You must be so proud."

Madame's words took Erik by surprise and then he felt the guilt building inside of him. He squished it, recovering quickly. He had to stay completely in control. And he stated calmly, "It's very nice to see you, too, Madame."

He turned his attention to Ned. "It's good that I found you here. I was going to go look for you. We have to leave."

"I know," Ned said, he waved for Erik to follow him, as he led Erik to the church door, motioning toward an unconscious Joseph.

Erik sneered, "I should have killed him a long time ago."

Sensing someone approaching, he turned just in time to stop Christine from seeing the unconscious wretch.

"Erik?" she asked worriedly. "What happened?"

Erik looked back at Ned and whispered quickly, "Take care of it," and his head slightly titled toward the unconscious man to his side and behind him, in a silent signal.

He gently pushed Christine back inside the church and led her to the front of the aisle and sat her on one of the pews. Looking at madame and Meg another plan started to form in his mind, one much better then leaving Christine here in this church for a few hours and coming back for her. And a much safer course of action, he decided, for Christine firstly, for she was his main concern, and for madame and her daughter secondly.

"Just sit here for a moment, Angel. I want to talk to Madame Giry." She opened her mouth to protest but he kissed her instead. And for a moment, she wasn't afraid anymore - she wasn't worried, there was only the two of them. It wasn't a hungry kiss, just a sweet, loving, reassuring kiss. When he pulled away, he whispered, "Trust me" and then kissed her on the forehead, before straightening up and turning to face Madame's wrath.

He almost smiled; although he would never admit it, he liked Madame… he liked her very much. She was like a long lost older sister to him, or a really good friend.

"And what makes you think I want to talk to you?" Madame asked coolly. Meg was now sitting quietly on the pew on the other side of the aisle, opposite Christine. Silent tears were still running down her cheeks and she wouldn't look at Ned.

"Because, Madame, you may hate me, but you know that I am your only way out. Now that you're this involved, they will never leave you alone." He wasn't one for nice words, but he decided to extend them now. "Please, just give me a few moments of your time. If you don't like my offer, you can refuse it."

Madame could hear the sincerity in his voice. She had to be strong; she couldn't fall apart now, or allow herself to go into shock over what she had learned had happened to her daughter. But she could face Erik, and decide the best course of action for the safety of her daughter and Christine Daee. Because if she were to be honest with herself, she was to bear some of the blame herself, for if she had never helped Erik, if she had never tended his fatal wounds once upon a time…none of this would have happened to her daughter…because no enemies of Erik would have ever thought to target her. Madame almost fell apart at the thought. So she quickly brushed it aside. She simply couldn't allow herself to think on it now. She had to be strong, for her daughter.

Then when this was over, there would be a lot of time for self-searching and self-flagellation…for weeping…

Madame followed Erik, as he led her into a hallway on the side of the chapel.

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Christine sat there silent, wringing her hands. She looked over at Meg, and another worry niggled at her.

"Meg?" Christine said softly as she slid down her seat and leaned over the edge of the pew, so that she was now close to Meg, with only a small space of the aisle between them. "What's wrong? You look so pale and sad."

Meg bit her lip and took a long shuddering breath; she was still crying quietly and wiping at her tears.

"Everything is wrong, Christine!" she cried. "Everything."

"Oh, Meg," Christine stated worriedly, as she rose from her seat and moved across the aisle to sit next to Meg. "Don't say that, everything will be fine. You'll see."

Before Meg had a chance to reply, Madame reappeared and stated flatly, "We're leaving, now. Meg - " she rushed to her daughter's side " – We need to go immediately and pack our things from our hotel room." Turning to Christine she stated in a motherly manner, "Christine, you, too."

"What?" she replied, shocked, as her gaze traveled from Madame's to Erik's calm one as he appeared in the doorway that connected the hall to the chapel. She stood and walked determinedly toward Erik; she wouldn't allow herself to panic now. "Erik?"

"Christine," he replied.

She stood in front of him blinking back tears for a moment, then swallowed and said, "You promised me."

"There is no way in hell," Erik replied firmly, "that I'm letting you stay here. It's too dangerous. I will find you in a few weeks, when I've resolved everything here."

Christine shook her head and blinked back more tears, as she continued calmly, "I won't leave you. If it's too dangerous, then so be it. Wherever you are, I am. How many times have you risked your life for me?" her voice was rising. "If I want to risk my life being with you, it's my choice." She raised her chin and repeated vehemently, "I'm not leaving."

Erik stared at her for a moment in disbelief. For the first time in his life, his heart had stopped beating for a moment, not because it was dead, but because of the intensity of the emotions that ran through him at the sight of her and the impact of her words…words so innocently stated…so sweet and self sacrificing…

Then he shook himself out of his trance and said what needed to be said.

"No." So simply stated… so deep an impact on Christine's trembling heart.

A moment of silence passed, Christine couldn't bring herself to say anything without bursting into tears. She fought to gather whatever shreds remained of her strength, and then when she was able to speak again, she replied shakily: "If you truly loved me," She stood against him toe to toe and he bit back a sad smile at her adorable bravery, "you wouldn't make me go, knowing how much it would hurt me."

"It would hurt you more to stay."

She swallowed hard, as she softly stated her ultimatum, "Very well, I'll go if you come with me"

"You're leaving" Erik replied firmly, and impatiently. Clearly stating with his tone that this debate was over, and sending another cut through her aching heart

She opened her mouth to protest more, but he silenced her with another kiss. He couldn't help himself; she was so sweet and brave. And he ached for her. But he had to do what must be done.

When he pulled away, Christine's heart broke, for she could see in his eyes the determination and the fact that the decision was made. She couldn't convince him to let her stay. And he was sending her away without him. The tears that she had been fighting against fell freely, and she bit her lower lip trying to stop her crying as more tears fell from her eyes.

Erik didn't say a word. He just silently took her in his arms and ran his hands up and down her back and arms in soothing motions, quietly waiting for her to calm down. Christine deeply breathed in his scent, to forever ingrain it in her memory. And silently memorized the sound of his heartbeats…it was happening…her premonition was coming true…and there was nothing she could do to stop it…

It was then that her tear blurred vision fell on the altar for a moment, and something else washed through her as she looked…hope.

Even though she couldn't convince Erik…even though she still felt that they would never see each other again…even though everything looked bleak…there was still that one light shining…like a shooting star in a dark night… hope, no matter how bleak…

After all, her feelings could be wrong…Erik might still change his mind…

Miracles could still happen…couldn't they?


	29. Chapter 29

Hello everyone, boy have I got a surprise for you! not only am I updating really quickly, but here it is the last chapter of "Angels and Roses". I will miss this phic, it has a special place in my heart. After all this time, we have finally come to the end.

This chapter is for all of you who have followed this story relentlessly, even when it took me ages to update sometimes. And a special thank you to those of you who took the time to let me know how you felt about every chapter. Your reviews are cherished and they always make me smile!

I hope that you all enjoy this last chappie. (Hugs to all!)

Long Live Phantom!

* * *

**Chapter 29 (The End)**

The year 1870

_Dear Angel of Music,_

_Today - what do I say about today? I feel numb, and maybe that's a good thing. I just found out that my father was killed and I can't even cry yet. I just sat there as Mother Superior told me that indeed everything I had known about my father's death was a lie. And that he didn't die in a carriage accident, but was murdered in cold blood! _

_She gave me this box that my papa had left for me, but there is no key. I can't even bring myself to look at it. I have been lying here on this bed for an hour, doing nothing but staring at the ceiling. I don't even know why I'm writing in my silly diary anymore. And I know that you'll probably never read this anyway. I mean - what else of what I've known is a lie? Perhaps my father's other promise was a lie too? _

_He did promise to come back for me and he never did! Why should his promise to send me the Angel of Music be any more real? Perhaps you're not real after all, or perhaps you are but you will never come for someone like me. _

_Perhaps I have been the biggest fool of all, waiting and hoping for you to come…for my father to keep his promise! For my life to be different! For…_

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There were ink splotches everywhere and Christine Daee realized that she had started crying in earnest and her tears just wouldn't stop. She was hugging her father's box to her heart with her free hand. Taking a deep breath through her tears, she raised a shaking hand to close the diary and even contemplated throwing it into the small simple fireplace of her room, just to watch it burn to ashes.

Instead, she lay back down on her small bed and held her father's box close to her heart as she cried herself to sleep. It was later that the young woman was awakened by the sounds of commotion and screaming outside.

And it was in the midst of the ashes of tragedy that Christine Daee came face to face with her long awaited Angel… at last…

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The year 1860

Erik stood in the shadows of the silent street; he could see the old man from the window, he was playing the violin. Erik had been sent to kill this man. What danger he posed for Lucienne, Erik didn't know. However, it wasn't hard to guess, for Lucienne had wanted Erik to retrieve some incriminating documents that were in this man's possession.

Erik had asked Lucienne bluntly why he didn't send one of his men for this mission, for Erik was not one of Lucienne's men, not in any real sense of the word. He had just designed and supervised the construction of a torture chamber, gotten paid and then started looking for other pursuits. However, he stayed in contact with Lucienne, for Lucienne wouldn't agree to cut all ties with Erik. It seemed that he valued Erik's services and expertise way too much.

Lucienne had informed Erik in no uncertain tones that he had heard of Erik's mastery in these things - he had heard of Erik's assassin days. Since this was such an important job to Lucienne, he wanted the best man available to do it.

Erik's lips thinned in irritation at the memory of the annoying man going on and on about Erik's mastery. He had finally agreed because Lucienne was paying him so handsomely. And what did it hurt? However, for whatever reasons, this job was leaving a very bad taste in his mouth. Apparently, Erik realized a bit belatedly, he was growing a bit of a conscience. Perhaps Ned was rubbing off on him after all. Erik almost snorted in disgust. Whatever this old man had done, apparently he was involved with Lucienne and no one involved with a wretch like Lucienne was innocent…

Usually, Erik would have performed his job quickly and efficiently; however, he couldn't bring himself do anything until the man finished playing his violin. He had a very soft spot for music, and he couldn't risk harming the instrument. But the more he watched from the darkness, the more his conscience irked him as the tunes of the violin rang out in the silence of the night. What if this old man were innocent? What if he had found out about Lucienne's shady business and had some kind of damning proof?

Erik fisted his hands into his cloak. What was the matter with him?

The sound of a shot fired jolted Erik out of his thoughts…cursing under his breath, he moved at lightning speed, invisible as a ghost, as he watched the old man and the violin tumbling to the ground…

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That was the night that a promise was made and a ghost promised to take care of an Angel… an Angel named Christine Daee…

The shot had hit the old man square in the heart, though deflected somewhat by the violin, which Erik assumed had served to prolong the man's life - or perhaps suffering - for a few more minutes…It was in those moments of distraction that Erik had gotten shot, in the upper chest, by the same intruder who had shot Gustav Daee…in a spot very close to his heart…Funny, it seemed this assassin had a thing for hearts, Erik thought in morbid humor for a moment, before darting forward, ignoring his wound, and instead taking pursuit of his attacker.

Even wounded as he was, it wasn't long before he captured his attacker; although when Erik had disposed of him, he realized the foolishness of his move. As wounded as he was, he couldn't hide the body, bury it, or return it to Lucienne as a message that he had found him out. Because of his recent physical exertions, he had made his wound worse. So he left the body there on the side of the deserted road and started walking. He didn't know how long he walked, trying to get back to his residence…

Almost an hour later, on a deserted street on the outskirts of town, Erik finally collapsed, realizing three things…one - he had been double-crossed by that bastard, Lucienne, and he knew why… He could almost see it in his mind's eye, see Lucienne plotting and planning…While he had wanted that old man dead, he had also wanted Erik dead, too, because Erik knew too much and he wasn't one of Lucienne's men. Lucienne knew that he couldn't control Erik, so the safest course of action was to try and get rid of Erik. Erik almost growled…The bastard had almost won…two - he had allowed himself to lose a lot of blood in his foolish attempt to instantly end the man who had shot him…and three - there were barely any houses here, this was a very deserted area…but there was a light coming from a small cottage a quarter mile ahead… if he could only make it there…if he could only get his legs to function…if…and his world went black.

Two days later Erik awoke to find himself lying in a small bed, which was too short, his feet were hanging over the end of it…being taken care of by a kindly woman, who told him she was a healer and introduced herself as Madame Giry…

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The year 1861 (six months later):

Ned stood silent, as he heard but didn't really hear the priest go on about eternal life… salvation and hope. Ned almost wanted to scream at the man, to howl at the heavens…to rip Lucienne apart with his bare hands. But instead he silently bent down, when it was time, took a bit of dust in his fist and threw it over the coffin. He stood there silently watching them bury his little, sweet sister…fighting to breathe…fighting against the tears which begged to fall but never would…fighting to just stay standing…

"Ned, my man," Lucienne said, placing his hand encouragingly on Ned's shoulder, "I'm really sorry - "

Ned flinched away from him, cutting him off. "Don't you even dare say her name." Turning his icy stare to Lucienne, he stated in deadly calm, "I quit. I don't care what you do to me, you son of a bitch. I quit."

With that, Ned turned around, in front of a gasping, shocked audience, and started walking away. Lucienne jogged to his side and hissed, "Where do you think you're going, you little bastard! I gave you and your little sister everything! If you take one more step, I'll end you!" he growled.

Ned snorted. "What are you going to do, kill me in front of all the guests who are right now staring at you and me suspiciously. You son of a bitch, I hope you would." Turning fully, he stopped in his tracks and taunted, "Do it! I wish to God you'd do it! You would be doing me two favors - one, exposing your disgusting self to everyone and two, you'd be putting me out of my misery."

Lucienne turned around to look at the guests, basically the entire town was there including the police chief. They had all come to attend the funeral of his daughter, and if he didn't walk back to them, hence giving Ned ample time to escape, they would all start suspecting him. In short, as sweat broke out on Lucienne's forehead he realized that he couldn't stop Ned now. He had to wait, at least until the funeral was over. It was a bad situation all around, but Lucienne went with damage control. He looked apologetically at his guests and turned around, walking back to the site of the burial.

The last thing Ned heard was Lucienne apologizing to the guests, and saying that his son wasn't taking the loss well.

It was a week later that Erik, who had been attending the funeral from a safe distance, met up with Ned and made him an offer.

They had a common purpose, and that was to bring Lucienne down, no matter the cost…and his entire network… Ned agreed to work for Erik…and so it had started…

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The year 1871 (Seven months after the day Christine parted from Erik)

Christine stood at the cliffside, looking down at the crashing waves. She wrapped her shawl around her more tightly to fend off the cold wind. She took a deep breath and watched as the waves raced against each other and crashed into the rocks, falling into a million pieces, only to unite again once they joined the sea. It had become her ritual to come everyday in the morning and just meditate… just feel for a while, before walking back to the house.

"Christine!" someone called but she didn't pay them any heed. She lovingly hugged her protruding stomach, sighed and whispered, "They won't leave us alone. But I know that you love it here, too."

"Christine, my dear," Madame Giry's voice had gotten closer,

"Bothersome woman," Christine muttered, as she continued to pat her tummy lovingly.

"You shouldn't be here in your condition," Madame berated.

Christine sighed in exasperation and turned to look at Madame who was now standing beside her, but before she could say anything, Madame continued in a gentler tone. "I know that you miss him. But you can't keep on like this. And you must think of your baby. You could easily fall down here, and no one would even hear you scream."

Christine bit her lower lip, blinking away the tears that had gathered in her eyes. Oh, how she missed him…he had said he would find her in a few weeks. It had been seven months and she hadn't even received a letter from him. And what hurt the most was that she had received marriage papers in the mail, indicating that legally she was married to one Erik Rienne, and that she was now the owner of a sizable amount of money left to her by said husband. She didn't even know if Rienne was his real family name or not. He had made sure that she was safe, secure and taken care of…she couldn't even think it, but she knew what that meant. He was most probably dead.

Christine brushed away a stray tear that had rolled down her cheek. No, she wouldn't allow herself to sink into depression; she had to think of her baby now. Erik had given her a beautiful memory, one she would cherish for all eternity. And in her heart of hearts, no matter how bleak the odds, she still hoped that he was alive and well… somewhere… and that he was coming for her… that she would see him again…

Looking at Madame Giry, Christine replied softly, "You're right. I'm sorry. It's just that coming here really calms me." Smiling shyly, she continued, "And I think the baby loves it, too." The baby tickled her in reply. "You see!" Christine exclaimed in loving laughter.

Madame smiled and wrapped her arms around Christine's shoulders, steering her back toward the house. "Just promise me that you won't come here alone."

"I promise," Christine replied.

Once the house came into view, Christine wondered, not for the first time, how Madame had gotten the money to buy such a house. It was a spacious and elegant house, not too fancy but definitely not simple either. When they had first left France, Madame had insisted that they come to England and Christine realized that it was probably what Erik had instructed her to do. And now here they were, in the countryside, two hours away from London.

In a way, the Giry's had become like family to her and for that she was very grateful.

It was also shortly after they had moved, that Christine had found out that she was expecting. Madame Giry had had a few choice words for Erik, before congratulating Christine and showing her support. Christine smiled at the memory.

"Here we are," Madame said as they reached the house. Christine looked to the side at her small rose garden and her smile grew.

"I'm going to work in my rose garden for a little while. I hope you don't mind."

"Of course I do not mind, child. Enjoy yourself." She stopped at the door and turned around to face Christine. "Oh, by the way, Meg has gone shopping for groceries."

"That's good," Christine replied with a knowing smile.

Meg had gone into a depression ever since they had moved. And then to make matters worse, one morning shortly after, she had woken screaming and hugging her stomach, her bed drenched in blood. By the time the doctor had arrived, he announced that Meg had had an unfortunate miscarriage. Ever since, Meg had gone into deep depression; the first few weeks after her miscarriage, Meg would just sit and stare out her bedroom window and cry herself to sleep. She refused to eat or do anything. But Madame had made her eat at least twice a day. She would sit and read to Meg every night.

While Christine was trying to put on a happy façade for Meg's sake, many times she would silently cry herself to sleep. Erik, who had promised to come for her in a few weeks, hadn't come. Two months had passed and not a word or letter from him. She doubted that she would ever see him again. For all she knew, Erik could be dead. And on many of those long nights, when she was lost in her own private grief, in her own silent screaming, she would hear silent footsteps down the hall, and she would know that Madame was quietly pacing the premises, because she couldn't sleep either. Although Christine did not know what Madame was punishing herself for, she knew that she was suffering as well…

It was those visits to the cliffside and the water that had saved Christine from going insane with grief as she waited for Erik, knowing in her heart that with every passing day the chances of him being alive were getting bleaker and bleaker.

When Christine found out that she was pregnant, Meg had distanced herself away from her. Christine thought that perhaps her pregnancy brought back bad memories accompanied by feelings of loss to Meg. She didn't try to get closer to Meg during those times, when she felt that Meg didn't want to talk to her.

Today was the first day that Meg had left the house, choosing to go with the maid to shop for groceries. Christine could see the hope and relief in Madame's eyes. She couldn't know what Madame had been feeling, but she knew that the first few months here had been hell on all of them.

But just like the roses in her garden, where one rose died another blossomed, life went on…time healed the wounds, even if the scars remained…

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"We need some potatoes, cucumbers and any available vegetables in general."

"I'll get them," Meg replied to the cheeky maid. "You get the fruits."

Taking her straw basket with her, Meg walked among the throngs of people to get to where they were selling what she wanted to buy. Meg took a deep breath and stopped for a moment in the middle of the market area, just listening to the sounds and watching as the people passed by, doing their business.

One woman was dragging her young son by his ear, berating him for attempting to cross the street without holding her hand. A man was smoking a cigarette in front of a café and Meg wrinkled her nose in distaste at the smell. She then continued her observations: two fancily dressed men were entering the bank; three women with umbrellas were walking down the street chatting and laughing; a carriage and a horse passed by; a girl ran to a doll shop, dragging her mother behind her…Meg closed her eyes and listened, deeply, taking in all the noises of the town. It had been so long since she'd been in civilization. And now here she was back in civilization, but forever changed.

"Miss, miss, are you alright?" the maid was gently shaking Meg, worry etched on her face.

Meg swallowed hard, shook herself out of her morose thoughts and replied, "Yes, yes, I'm fine." And without another word, she started determinedly toward the grocer. When she had bought all the vegetables that they wanted and paid, she made her way out to the street. The maid had gone into the shop next door to purchase fruit. She had just decided to go find the maid when a cab stopped in front of her. Meg told the hooded driver to wait a minute. She thanked her lucky stars for her good luck at finding a cab so easily for them to return. She then hurried inside to call the maid; soon both women came out and Meg handed the driver the payment which she knew was commonly paid and she and the maid got in.

As soon as the carriage started, Meg couldn't shake the niggling anxious feeling that assaulted her. It took Meg several minutes to realize what was bothering her - the driver was eerily hooded, hence completely shielded from anyone's view - and he hadn't even asked for any payment or to where they wanted him to take them.

Her breathing hitched; the carriage had begun moving and there was no way of getting out unless they wanted to jump out of a moving carriage. She gripped the basket beside her with one hand and the other flew up to her chest.

"Miss, Miss Meg, what's wrong?"

Meg whimpered, her breathing became more and more shallow. Sweat broke out on her forehead and she was sure she was on the verge of having a panic attack.

The maid peaked out the window and called out, panicked, to the driver, "Oh, driver, please stop! Stop the carriage right now! My mistress - I don't know what's wrong with her!"

The carriage came to an abrupt halt at the side of the quiet road. As soon as it did, the carriage door flew open and Meg was met with the face of the driver, all her fears, hopes, anger, hate, love coming to life at once as she looked into the deep emerald eyes of the man who had lied to her. Her heart stopped beating for a moment and then pure adrenaline and anger burst through her. Her trembling hand flew to her vegetable filled basket and she hurled a potato, aiming straight for his head.

But his reflexes were much quicker and with a slight chuckle he moved aside so the potato flew straight out the carriage door and landed on the ground.

"What are you trying to do, sweetheart, kill me with a potato?"

Meg flew out of the carriage door, now that it had become a clear exit without him standing in the way. Her basket… her only defense… firmly in her other hand.

"May you rot in hell!" she shouted, lurching forward and turning to face him. It took her a moment to realize that they were already outside of town, on a secluded road, surrounded by forests on all sides. Fear bubbled inside of her. But no - she refused to go down without a fight.

"You don't scare me. I refuse to let you," and with that, Ned, who was smiling in admiration of her, had to duck and dodge the oncoming tomatoes, followed by the turnips. One turnip hit him square in the shoulder, and as he rubbed it, he stated seriously, "Meg, we need to talk."

The maid was watching from the carriage door with morbid fascination, seemingly lost between her urge to laugh and her urge to run and call for help.

"I refuse to listen," she replied in a high pitched, hysterical voice. "You didn't deny it. Ned, you didn't deny it! How could you!"

"Because I didn't want to lie to you!" he replied in sincere exasperation. With that, he swooped down on her and with one swift movement, he had grabbed her by the arm. Although he didn't hurt her, she screamed and tried to break free. The maid moved to defend her mistress, but one icy glare from Ned, accompanied by his deadly calm order, stopped the poor maid in her tracks. "Don't you dare move from your spot. Is that understood?" the maid nodded vehemently, as fear shot through her.

He swept Meg up in his arms and walked with her struggling form into the nearest grove of trees. Ned made sure that they weren't far from the carriage, just out of ear shot of the maid.

He placed the trembling, crying Meg on her feet, and moved a few feet away from her to give her space, as guilt laced his voice and he continued softly, "It's the truth. I once was one of Lucienne's men."

"Oh!" she screamed in outrage and he had to dodge a big cucumber. "And you have the audacity to come for me - after everything you put me through!"

At the back of his mind, he berated himself for not taking that damn vegetable basket from her. He took a deep breath and started.

"Just because I was one of Lucienne's men once upon a time, does not mean that I was a part of those - " sparing a split second to think, he chose his words carefully " - horrible activities that some of his men were sent to do."

He began approaching Meg like a panther circling its prey. "I admit that I was present during one, but I walked outside so that I wouldn't have to witness it." He took a deep pained breath. "But unfortunately I could still hear." He left the rest of his sentence unspoken, before continuing. "I refused to participate in it, and the men did not rat me out to Lucienne, not because they cared, but because they couldn't care less about what I did or didn't do."

Meg was trembling so badly now that the basket had fallen from her grasp and what few vegetables remained inside spilled onto the ground at her feet. She heaved, as a wave of nausea hit her and a cold sweat broke all over her body.

He was standing so close to her now; her eyes, shock-filled, were fixed upon his face. She couldn't move and her trembling wouldn't cease.

"You see, Lucienne had adopted me and my little sister, when my parents had died in a carriage accident. He had witnessed my skills with locks and he wanted me. He saw me as a valued addition to his men." He raised his hand, wanting to brush away the stray tears that were caressing Meg's pale cheeks, but stopped himself when his hand was almost there. He realized that no matter how much he ached to take her in his arms right now, she probably loathed him and didn't want to be touched, especially not by him. He backed a few feet away from her.

"He had my sister under his grasp. She was only seven when he adopted us, barely twelve when he started sending me out on missions." He spoke softly and even in her numb state, Meg thought his voice was shaking a little. Ned ran a trembling hand through his hair. "I just - I couldn't let any harm come to her. I couldn't - " he cut himself off and swallowed hard, before saying slowly - "I understand if you don't ever want to see me again. But I just had to explain. I just had to let you know - "

She shook her head in disbelief and interrupted him with a shaky, raspy voice, "I - I don't know what to think right now. This is too much. I can't take much more of this."

"I'm sorry," he whispered sincerely, as he walked back to her and brushed his hand across her cold, wet cheek, unable able to stop himself. He repeated broken-heartedly, "I'm so sorry for all the pain you've been through. I'm so sorry… But if you will let me - " Meg sobbed as he continued…repeated " - If you will let me, I will try for the rest of my life to make it up to you. If you still want me, I am yours - body, heart and soul. You have the whole of me."

He paused for a moment and said the hardest words he had ever said, the words that would/could cost him his heart. "But if you want, I will give you a divorce. Or I will simply stage my death and you could be a respectable widow. And you won't see me ever again. I'll leave you alone if that's what will make you happy."

Meg sobbed again as she stepped away from his touch and hugged herself tightly. She had to regain some control of herself but before she could think of what she was saying she brokenly blurted out, "I lost the baby."

Ned looked sadly at her; he had already known that from the first moment he had seen her in town. She should be sporting a big tummy by now but she was still as thin as he remembered her. Actually she was thinner now, and paler. She looked so fragile and weak, and he ached to shield her and protect her. He made a mental note to make her eat, if she took him back that is.

"I realized that, the moment I saw you." Not caring if he was moving too fast, he took her in his arms and was surprised when she sagged, sobbing, against him and didn't push him away. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I'm so sorry I wasn't there to help you through."

After a while of weeping, she stated in a thin shaky voice, "I just woke up one morning - " her voice hitched " - to a very deep sharp pain in my abdomen. There was a lot of blood. By the time the doctor arrived, he s-said that I had suffered a m-miscarriage."

"Shhh. Everything will be alright now. I won't let anything happen to you." And he tightened his arms around her.

Her crying had calmed down and they just stood there, him afraid to move, afraid that any sudden movement on his part would break the moment or would send her away from him and she just stood there in the sanctuary of his arms, feeling the numbness that had been with her all these months starting to melt away. She took a deep muffled breath. She felt as if she were coming back to life in his arms. And then suddenly she remembered and asked, in a semi-muffled, tired voice, against his chest, "What happened to your sister?"

A few moments of tense silence passed as he continued to gently move his hands up and down her back in soothing motions. She could hear his breathing catch a little, before going back to normal as if he was fighting to keep his emotions under control. Then he answered in a calm voice, "She died, a long time ago. She died of the scarlet fever. After she died, I directly defied Lucienne and left his service." He had fought so hard to protect her… to shield her… to give her the best that life had to offer and he had failed. He had failed his sister, and now he had failed Meg. His parents would be so disappointed…

While he was lost in the midst of his silent self-flagellation, the voice of an angel lifted his heart to the doors of heaven, as Marguerite Giry uttered her next words, right against his heart.

"I don't want you to leave."

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Christine sighed in exasperation; the rose simply refused to be planted in the spot that Christine had deemed the best place for it.

"Now why are you being so stubborn?" Christine spoke softly to the white rose. "I only want what's best for you."

"Well, maybe it doesn't want to be planted there." Christine gasped at the sound of that magical voice as she whirled around while trying to stand at the same time, which only served to make her lose her balance and trip. Horror dawned on her as she realized that she was going to fall, but a strong pair of arms caught her, pulling her up and steadying her.

She turned around to face the intruder, her brain refusing to function. When her eyes met Erik's, she swayed in his arms. "E-Erik?" she whispered, her voice, her legs, it seemed everything in her, refused to function. The last thing she remembered was the look of shock on Erik's face as his sight fell on her protruding tummy. Then she felt herself being lifted up in a pair of strong arms, while her world went black.

Erik cursed himself as he carried her inside the house. He was such an idiot; the one time he had taken her without any precautions, because he stupidly couldn't control himself anymore, he had gotten her pregnant and then had left her for months, when he had told her he would find her in a few weeks. She must have thought he was dead or that he had abandoned her.

He had handled this wrong. True, there were things that had needed to be taken care of. If he could have come for her sooner, he would have. But he had had to clean up the mess of Lucienne and his men and also anonymously send incriminating papers to the police about Lucienne so that they wouldn't be so adamant about finding his killer. And now he had everything ready for her, for himself. They were…she was safe. And he wouldn't let anyone harm her ever again.

He gently placed her on the sofa and traced the line of her warm cheek, her plump, slightly parted lips. "Christine, Angel, wake up."

"What happened?" Madame came running down the stairs, her eyes accusing. "What are you doing here?"

"We need some smelling salts," Erik replied, ignoring her question. Although Madame's anger flared at his dismissive tone, she rushed to the kitchen and got some. As soon as she got close to Erik, Erik took the smelling salts from her hand and brought them to Christine's nose.

Christine coughed and frowned, coming awake. Her eyes fluttered open, coming to dazedly rest on Erik as her gentle hands pushed at Erik's, pushing the smell away and Erik allowed her to remove his hand. He gave the salts back to Madame and said in a low voice, "Don't interrupt us."

Madame glared at him and turned to the kitchen, telling him without words, to his amusement, that she would be close by. And if anything happened she would hear and come out and shoot him.

Christine whimpered and tried to get to a sitting position. He gently helped her, careful not to touch her tummy, afraid that he might hurt her or the baby.

"Erik?" she whispered.

"Yes," he replied tenderly, gently brushing a blond curl behind her ear.

"Erik!" she exclaimed and threw her arms around his neck, sobbing. "I thought you would never come! I thought you were dead!"

"Shhh…I should have come earlier. I didn't know - " he left the rest of the sentence dangling.

And the floods opened. Christine could no more stop it than she could stop a tornado or a hurricane… all the pain, the despair, the hope, the lonely nights, the dark thoughts came flooding to the surface as she let out a wail and tears started falling like waterfalls down her cheeks. She cried openly, hysterically, against his chest, blinded by her tears, paralyzed by the conflicting emotions and the numbing relief that was starting to wash through her.

Erik promptly lifted her in his arms and then sat down, sitting her in his lap. Holding her trembling, shaking body in his arms, shielding her, soothing her as he tried desperately with everything he had to calm her down… he peppered loving kisses across her face…eyelids…cheeks…forehead…jaw line…all the while he whispered, in his most soothing voice, sweet nothings to her. Fear filled him; he was afraid that she might hurt herself or the baby from this emotional outburst. And yet again, it would be his fault.

It took several minutes, which seemed like ages to Erik, for her to calm down a little, and another few minutes for her weeping to turn to occasional hiccupping. And then, as he hummed to her, her breathing slowed and he could feel her body relaxing and calming. A moment later he heard her speaking.

"You're here," she whispered, exhaustedly. His arms tightened around her.

"I'm here… I'm here," he replied as soothingly and reassuringly as possible, running his hands up and down her arms and back in soothing, loving motions.

She took in a shaky breath and with one of her hands wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks. After a moment of silence, she spoke again.

"I'm pregnant," she informed him a little shyly.

He couldn't help but smile. God, how he loved her. "I know, love."

"And you're not angry or sad? I remember when we talked briefly about this, that you - " she moved away from his embrace, so that she would be able to look at his eyes. She bit her lower lip nervously. "Well, you didn't exactly show enthusiasm."

He went back to cursing himself silently. In addition to putting her through all this, alone for months, he had added the worry that his callous words had apparently put her through.

He smiled gently at her, placed his free hand on her tummy, and said, "I couldn't be happier."

She beamed at him and threw her arms around him again, resting her cheek against his shoulder and sighed contently.

"You know," she started, after a few moments of silence, reveling in the touch, the feel, as if they were both breathing from each other, "I really thought you were dead," she said softly, her voice shaking. "And when I received the marriage documents - " she shook her head, blinking back new tears, remembering all the scenarios she had come up with.

She took a deep breath as he silently waited for her to continue, while gently running his hand up and down her arm. She was lying against his chest.

"You know I really want to be angry with you." She straightened away from his chest and looked at him and then ran her hands through his black hair. "But I simply can't. I mean, is Rienne even your real family name?"

He looked deeply into her eyes and simply stated, "No."

Christine flinched a little, at how easily he had said it. Her heart twisted with pain that he could lie to her, so easily. She removed her hands from his hair and placed them in her lap, turning her gaze away from him. She stared diligently at her hands instead as she fought to regain control of her emotions.

Erik placed his free hand beneath Christine's chin and gently lifted her face so that she was looking at him again. He could see the tears in her eyes.

"Rienne was my mother's maiden name. I never knew who my father was. My mother never told me. She never even told me what his last name was. So I used my mother's maiden name." He paused for a moment. "It is the closest thing to a family name that I've got. I hope that doesn't disappoint you."

It took her a moment to reply. But when she did, he couldn't help but smile a little. She threw her arms around his neck and slammed her lips against his. And just like that they were kissing. It turned from a sweet kiss to a passionate one, as she deepened the kiss and Erik groaned. His Christine – oh, how he loved her! Christine whimpered when he started tasting her in return and she twisted in his lap so that her legs were on either side of his and she was facing him, her tummy pressing against his stomach. He was so hungry for her, he could have taken her right then and there. And she was just as eager.

Christine's hands raked through Erik's hair as she moved against him. She could feel him hard, and pressing between her thighs. Even though there were layers of clothing that separated them from feeling skin on skin, she moaned in ecstasy as she moved against him again, and he groaned deep into her mouth at her movements. His hands seemed to be everywhere, on her backside subtly increasing her rhythmic movements against him, or running up and down her back, or tangled in her hair, then cupping her breasts over her clothes…she moaned again, and began unbuttoning his shirt, eager to run her hands over his chest, to feel him… his skin…

Erik twisted and gently turned, pressing her down onto the sofa; he was about ready to rip her dress in half, when the sound of a voice clearing caused Christine to freeze and pull away from his kiss. She blushed furiously when she saw Madame Giry looking at them. Erik hissed in annoyance as he straightened, lifting Christine up with him back to their original sitting position, seating her completely back in his lap and returning his hand to her waist.

"Would you like some tea?" she stated innocently. Christine laughed against his chest in embarrassment, still blushing. Erik simply stared at Madame with a mixture of irritation and amusement.

Madame Giry was surely getting her revenge on him, he thought half amused, half angry.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

(Five months later)

Christine left the crib, after kissing her baby's small forehead and running her hand through his curls. She had just fed him. He was the most beautiful baby in the world and the universe, she thought. He had her blond curls and his father's eyes, only Erik's eyes were lighter in color. Little Erik's eyes were almost as golden as his father's, but not quite, as they were more natural colored; They had more brown in them than Erik's.

Erik had joked once that the baby's eyes matched his hair and Christine agreed with a grin.

Erik was still wary of carrying the baby. But Christine had made him carry little Erik a few times and she could literally see Erik's hesitancy and fear. He was afraid of harming the baby. He would sometimes sing little Erik to sleep, when he was having a hard time going to sleep on his own. But he still refused to hold the baby unless Christine specifically insisted. She was determined to get him over whatever it was that was holding him back from being comfortable with being a father.

She kissed her sleeping baby's forehead again and walked down the hall to the music room. She was surprised to see that Erik wasn't there. Lately he had gone back to his music, which had for the longest time taken second seat to his other pursuits in life. But now that they were here, that the danger was gone, he had gone back to dedicating a good while of his time to composing. Christine still felt the chills up her spine, every time she remembered the beauty that was his music. He had let her hear a part of this new composition he was working on. He had called it "Christine". And what a beautiful piece it was…

Christine turned and walked back in the direction of their room, perhaps Erik was there. She entered the room, only to find it empty, the four poster bed was made, the dressers were untouched, the door to their closet was still half open, as she had left it that morning, a drawer of her dresser was half open giving her a peak at her old diary. She still smiled wistfully every time she saw it. Apparently Erik had saved it from the fire, and he had informed her unrepentantly that he had read it.

Her sight then fell on the bunch of scattered unfinished letters that lay across Christine's table. She reminded herself that tonight before she went to bed, she would sit and write her replies to Meg, who had just informed her that she and Ned were expecting. Christine couldn't be happier for her friend, who apparently had found happiness at last. She also was writing to Raoul, her dear childhood friend. Erik didn't like that, but he still allowed her to do it without any complaining. She could tell by the thinning line of his mouth that he wasn't very pleased. But Christine simply had to assure her friend that she was fine, and to thank him for the days when he had taken care of her.

He had also informed her in his previous letter that he had enlisted in the navy, and was very anxious and happy to be joining the service. It had been one of his dreams, to serve in the navy for a few years. He had also informed Christine that he had met someone special. And Christine couldn't be happier though worried for him. Phillipe and Sorelli were getting married within a month, Raoul had also informed her.

It seemed to Christine that everyone was finding their contentment and happiness. Meg and Ned had had a big church wedding and were now living in their house on the outskirts of London. And Madame Giry had her little herbal shop, selling her medicines and potions. She lived next door to Meg and Ned. Christine wasn't sure if Ned liked that arrangement or not, but she could only imagine. Raoul and Phillipe in France… and she and Erik here in the countryside of England, by the sea.

When Erik had asked her where in the world she wanted to go, she had stated that she would love to visit Spain, Italy, and even the new world. But the place where she wanted to settle down was wherever he was. And Erik had decided that staying there in England was a good option. And because of her love for the sea, he had bought a house by the sea. While Christine had protested in the beginning about the size of the house, and how they could easily buy a smaller more modest one, Erik had insisted, and she had finally agreed.

The maids had all left for their quarters, since dinner had already been served. And the house was now eerily quiet.

The wind blew in, caressing Christine's face and blowing the skirts of her yellow dress every which way. She looked at the source and saw the white silk curtains swaying with the wind at the open doors of the balcony. She hugged herself for a moment to ward off the chill and then walked outside.

There was Erik, her strange Angel, standing quietly staring up at the night sky, at the millions of twinkling stars. She stood behind him, silently staring as well, her gaze moved from the beautiful night sky to the view of her beautiful rose gardens below.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Christine commented.

"It is," he stated nonchalantly, before turning back to face her. His eyes glowed in the darkness and Christine stifled a nervous, fascinated giggle. She still hadn't gotten used to the mystery that was Erik. "I was just remembering - " his mouth lifted in a half smile and he didn't continue his sentence. He wrapped his arms around her and brought her closer to him.

"You know when I was little, I used to wish on stars a lot," Christine informed him.

"Really?" he smirked. "And what, madame, did you happen to wish for?"

"Oh, many silly things…the Angel of Music…my father coming back for me…having a family."

He ran his hands through her hair and stated calmly, "Those are not silly." He touched the tip of her nose with his finger.

"And you know what?" she continued smiling. "I got most of my wishes."

"Really?" he asked tenderly.

"Really." She sighed contentedly. "I got you. I got our little precious Erik." There was a pause. "I finally have a home."

"Yes," he replied with that beautiful voice of his and she could hear the stark longing in his tone. "A home."

"We both have," she replied, and with that, she stood on the tips of her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing his head down to hers as she brushed her lips against his, before he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her in earnest. She whimpered into his mouth and returned his kiss with as much eagerness, as two hearts beat as one…

Later that night, Erik, who didn't sleep much, left their room to work on some music, saying that she had inspired him, to which Christine blushed and laughed. She contemplated just going to back to sleep; after all, tomorrow was going to be a long day. Tomorrow was the first day that she would start riding lessons; she had asked Erik if he could teach her how to ride a horse and he had agreed.

She groaned and got out of bed; she had to finish those letters first. She wrapped her robe around her to shield her naked body from the breeze and sat at her table to continue writing her letters. She wondered for a moment if she should tell Meg that Erik had been commissioned to design an opera house. Then she decided against telling her friend these things, since she doubted that Erik wanted anyone knowing about his work or about him in general. She knew he wouldn't be pleased. No, she would keep anything about Erik to generalities and just talk about herself, her singing lessons, and her soon to begin riding lessons.

And of course she would invite her friend, Ned and Madame to come visit in two weeks time for the special event. It would be a two hour journey for them. Christine silently hoped that someday, she and Meg would get to live closer to each other, for Meg was her only friend. She had asked Erik if they could renew their vows in a church, and Erik had agreed. It would be a small, intimate event with only close friends, since she knew that Erik hated crowds and she didn't like them much either. They would be renewing their vows on their anniversary, Christine smiled contentedly. Erik had also promised her a surprise on their one year anniversary in two weeks.

But just as she lifted her hand to begin writing, the partial view of her old diary, peeping at her from the half open drawer caught her attention and wouldn't let her be. She sighed and finally opened the drawer and pulled the diary out. Opening it to a new page, she laughed softly to herself. Later she would show it to Erik; she was sure it would make him smile. On that page, in an elegant, soft handwriting, she wrote:

_Dear Angel of Music,_

_Thank you for giving me my happy ending._

_Lovingly,_

_Christine Daee_

**The End**


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